


Homecoming

by eikyuu



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, Family Feels, Family Issues, Kid Fic, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Mending Relationships, Modern AU, Redemption, Skywalker Family Drama, Slow Burn, han is sick, i just love kylo and rey in a familial setting, no jedi or force or any sci fi magic, sorta - Freeform, that one trope where you go back to your hometown and fall in love with your childhood friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-02-07 10:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 69,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12838953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eikyuu/pseuds/eikyuu
Summary: AU in which Kylo has cut off all contact with his parents for the past seven years, but one phone call brings him right back to his dysfunctional family, and away from his hopeful art career. Now he has to deal with Han and Leia's foster daughter Rey, Governor Organa herself, and Armitage Hux, his high school rival who seems to keep showing up at every turn. Worst of all, he has to reconcile with Han, and figure out how to say goodbye.





	1. Chapter 1

Gallery openings were a nightmare. From the noise that seemed to engulf every crevice and corner of the building, to the ceaseless pleasantries and processions of hands to shake, all the lofty congratulations to accept. It was a miracle when Kylo didn’t find a way to fuck something up.

 

Most of the people milling around that night were attaching his paintings with false analyses, something about how one of the particularly vivid red smears was about passionate love, but the streaks of black on the other side signified infidelity. To Kylo, sometimes a red smear was just a red smear, and black streaks just so happened to balance and accent the piece. Sometimes they were just the result of anger-induced paint slinging. Abstract meant that anyone could see anything though, it was so popular because it automatically became personal to whoever happened to view it. Kylo liked it because he _didn’t_ have to think about or ascribe significance to it, it was just an aesthetic representation of his emotions.

 

 Last night had been the official opening for his latest show: _Monochrome in Red and Black_. It was the first time in nearly a year that Kylo had actually shown up to a proper public event, after Phasma repeatedly demanded that he do so to maintain the balance between “elusive mystery man” and “complete hermit”. An air of anonymity and intrigue added to popularity, but being a reclusive shut-in put off members of the mainstream art society. If he wanted to maintain a living, and maintain an agent as successful as Phasma, he’d better show his face in public once in a while.

 

It was getting more and more difficult to face social gatherings as the years passed though, especially now that he was steadily gaining fame. Having an alias helped curb some of the inquiry on a day to day basis, especially because so few people actually knew his face. Kylo can still remember the reactions of the people at his very first showcase, the iconic hand-made mask that completely obscured his face, paired with an all-black suit. He wore that mask to every opening since, up until a recent face reveal at Phasma’s encouragement.

 

“It’s time, Ren,” she’d said. “If you want to be a more professional, respected artist, you’ll stop pulling such eccentric stunts. You can afford to make less appearances at openings if you so choose, but your work will be overlooked if you keep diverting all the attention to yourself.” It had been the first of many occasions that Kylo had felt stifled by Phasma’s requirements, only for them to prove to be for the best in the long run.

 

Kylo has an apartment, but it’s barely lived-in. The studio downtown is where he spends the majority of his time. Once spacious and empty, an old couch and a treadmill eventually found their way in, as did a garment rack of plain shirts and pants. Over time, many other personal items migrated over until his apartment was a skeleton of dark wood furniture and a fridge with only the bare essentials inside.

 

Presently, he was barely coming around, body slung haphazardly across the futon after staying up way too late with feverish ideas for the next project. It was already sunrise, he noted as he sat up to assess his surroundings. His phone informed him that it was 7:30AM, he’d been asleep for three hours.

 

A morning run around the block was in order before anything else, something physical to get the blood running. Next was the ten minute trip to his apartment for a shower. Kylo paid little attention to his wardrobe, almost everything he owned was stained with paint and plaster at this point. Phasma was often displeased with how unkempt he was.

 

“For a former military man, you certainly don’t carry yourself as such,” she’d said one evening after discussing the latest collection of paintings he’d completed, in reference not only to his messy clothes, but also to his general lack of respect for others and unchecked anger. Being a veteran herself, and a high-ranking one at that, Phasma viewed everyone through the lens of a perfectionist. Her clothes were always pressed and spotless, hair sleek and styled, disposition calm and pragmatic.

 

 _No_ , she’d been wrong with that bit of commentary. Kylo had made that known by proceeding to down the rest of his drink and stomping off without so much as a grunt to indicate he was leaving.

 

There were certainly ways in which Kylo did not conduct himself in as disciplined a manner as most military personnel did: his tendency to completely disregard the direct wishes of other people, his lack of regard for the general population or patriotism, and his emotionally-unstable-on-a-good-day way of navigating his life, to name a few.

 

To say that he was nothing like a soldier was just as incorrect as saying he was a model veteran. Kylo was disciplined in his physicality; his exercise routines were meticulous, and his work ethic was far more intensive than most. His drive and devotion were what had made him so successful as a marine, it was his oversensitivity that had ultimately done in that career.

 

Now, somehow, he was here, a semi-famous artist. Kylo had come out the other side of a career of kill or be killed, fight tooth and nail every single day just to keep your head above water, and the disparity between that world and the civilian world was the hardest thing he’d ever had to reconcile. After major readjustment, sitting through therapy groups and sorting out the basics, Kylo was left with the question of what to do with the rest of his life. One of the programs offered at the VA was art therapy, which was recommended to Kylo specifically, considering his obvious emotional issues and loathing of traditional methods.

 

Although reluctant at first, Kylo would never admit to anyone how desperate he was to be rid of all the anguish he felt, and an outlet was welcome relief. He found that painting, working with his hands to create, was something he greatly enjoyed and was good at. His hands were steady, his fingers were deft, and he had a mind for details and composition. It was from there that Phasma had discovered him, and saw a raw talent she could mold into something more. With help from her, working two jobs, and taking out loans, Kylo had put himself through art school and eventually gained enough notoriety to start steadily selling pieces, and eventually to having galleries hanging them on walls for rich people to look at. Even the feelings of disgust he felt at having them buy his paintings as only gratuitous displays of wealth couldn’t cheapen his pride; creating art had completely consumed his life.

 

The first half of the day was spent working on a new painting, a process carried out by miscellaneous methods. The colors were all warm toned acrylics: strokes of vibrant orange and red and yellow. Kylo seemed to favor the palette of anger and fire and smoke and death. Some critics referred to his works as “overly dark and without variety”. It was true, his usual pieces were composed of shapes and colors, totally abstract and arbitrary, but once in a while, as if to do so just to prove he could, Kylo would produce a vividly concrete painting. Most of those were of galaxies, as he’d always had an attraction to vast expanse of space: the bright colors in contrast with the black void, all the burning heat and beyond freezing cold, the comets and stardust and black holes. It was one of the only ways in which Kylo connected to his youth at all anymore.

 

The second half was spent with rigorous exercise and jotting down thoughts as they occurred to him. Kylo’s notes were messy, nearly indecipherable to most people. Sometimes the ideas panned out nicely, other times they resulted in a canvas with a hole punched through it.

 

As the sun was sinking low behind the skyline, Kylo hunted down a food truck and ate and rested before he threw himself back into work. He’d meet with Phasma the next day to discuss his contributions to Dr. Snoke’s annual art exhibition due in just four months. Kylo could still barely believe that he’d been among the few artists chosen for this distinction, he had nothing but the highest respect and admiration for an art proficient of Snoke’s caliber. Phasma was also pleased at this, despite the fact that it had sent Kylo into a raving panic for the first two weeks after finding out, calling her at all hours of the day and night with questions of how he could possibly pull this off, could create something worthy of such an honor. He still had the invitation on his desk though, the envelope that read “Kylo Ren” in elegant calligraphy. It was very real, and his deadline was looming.

 

Once evening settled over the city, Kylo began mixing new reds and oranges for the painting and was already elbow-deep in his work when a small chime came from the futon across the studio. It was almost so quiet he didn’t hear it over his own thoughts and activity, but he caught it. Probably just a reminder from Phasma, giving him the time and place of their meeting for the third time. A few minutes later, the phone started buzzing with an incoming call. That was a little more unusual of her, Kylo thought. Phasma didn’t call unless the matter was pressing.

 

Picking up the phone was awkward, but Kylo didn’t have time to waste on cleaning the paint off his hands. This could be about the Snoke exhibit, and if so it required his full attention and a timely response. Anxiety twisted in his stomach as he balanced the device between his wrists and managed to accept the call with his nose, propping it between his cheek and shoulder.

 

“Ben,” the voice said, and at first Kylo thought he’d misheard. The voice was female, but not the deep accented one he’d expected. His heart nearly stopped when the cold realization hit: he knew exactly who this was.

 

“I told you not to contact me,” was the automatic mechanical response. Kylo was too shocked to think to hang up, so he stood frozen in place, waiting for the reply.

 

“You did. I’m calling anyway.” Definitely his headstrong mother. Nausea settled into the back of his throat and he tried to push it down as he listened helplessly. “It’s important, so I need you to listen to what I say.”

 

“How did you get this number?” He demanded instead of bothering to hear her out. “How did you even find out where I was?”

 

A sigh informed him that Leia was most likely sitting somewhere, pinching at the bridge of her nose and willing away a spike of temper. Even after eight years it was so easy to imagine. “I will say, we lost track of you for a while there, the fake name in particular threw us off, but I know my son’s face, and I knew it was you when I saw a picture of _Kylo Ren_ on the internet. A little investigating after that confirmed your identity. Through my connections I was able to hunt down your agent and persuade her to give me your personal number. Does that satisfy your curiosity? Good, moving on.”

 

 _We_ , _us_. Kylo couldn’t help but fixate on those words. Han Solo was a particularly difficult thing to dwell on, considering how spectacularly he’d failed as a father. Leia hadn’t exactly been the picture of maternal love, but she’d tried, at least. The subject of his parents and his past in general was something Kylo tried not to think of when at all possible. Now it was all directly in his face, talking to him on the phone.

 

“You should’ve just left me alone,” he grumbled. It had worked for the last seven years, not having to get a single call or email or letter, pushing the memories so far down that they only resurfaced in his dreams sometimes. Seven years of no communication at all, eight of not having to look upon the faces of the people who’d failed so miserably as parents. That had suited Kylo just fine.

 

“I need to tell you something important, as I said—“

 

“You shouldn’t have called,” he says louder, through gritted teeth, his mind and body finally coming out of their stupor to properly respond.

 

“Ben—“

 

“ _That’s not my name anymore_ ,” he says, louder still. His brain suddenly shifts to shutting out anything Leia tries to say, the anger building up like an erupting volcano. “You shouldn’t have—“

 

“Han is sick.” The words are clipped, matter-of-fact, the way that Leia speaks when she’s had time to process a situation first, had time to go through the hysteria and acceptance. Kylo just felt ice run through his veins.

 

“What?” his voice is soft, so soft it’s almost a whisper. Everything else falls away but the floor just under his feet and the voice in his ear.

 

“He’s sick. He’s… _been_ sick, for a while now,” Leia admits, her voice taking on the tone she used to use when she knew she had to be careful around Kylo, or else he might break. His mind fills with TV static, his ears only catching snippets of Leia’s words like “not responding to treatments” and “done all they can do” and “his wishes to stop trying so he can enjoy his last months” and “we’re just trying to make sure he’s comfortable towards the end”.

 

“What…” his brows draw together as if he’s confused. This can’t be real. Han Solo is a hardened mountain of a man, not emotionally worth a damn, but strong nonetheless. He was a cockroach, unkillable. That a sickness could leave him at the end of his rope? Unthinkable.

 

“I know this is a lot to process, but we wanted to reach out. You deserve the chance to spend time with Han, say goodbye, to come home. _Come home_ , Ben.” It was the closest to pleading he’d ever heard from his fierce mother, which was also jarring. The room was spinning.

 

“I’ll…I’ll let you know,” he says quietly, which is a vague response at best, but it’s all he can manage. The rage he was feeling before had been extinguished and replaced by shock. He ends the call with a paint-covered finger, not enough presence of mind to consider ruining the touchscreen.

 

That’s when his legs finally give out. Kylo lands hard on the futon, eyes searching and searching the wall in front of him as if this studio holds the answer to any of this. So many different emotions are slicing through his chest: the anger, the pain, the sadness, the guilt, the shame. It took a tragedy of the direst kind for him to even consider returning home.

 

All of Leia's words echoed hollowly inside Kylo’s head as he tried to make sense of the situation, and what he was going to do.

 

 _Come home_ , she’d said. How could she say that he deserved to go back, to make amends for issues that were admittedly two-sided? It was Han who’d created the rift between them undoubtedly, but it was Kylo who had cut his parents off completely.

 

Then there was the Snoke exhibit, which made Kylo feel a little guilty for even taking that into consideration. It was important to his future career to be a part of this show though, and it would satisfy him personally to know his best work yet hung on Snoke’s walls.

 

He felt completely overwhelmed at that point, so Kylo got back up and attempted to return to the painting in hopes it would calm his mind. He made exactly five brushstrokes before succumbing to complete hysterics. Coming down from all that anger and grief took up the rest of the night and bled into the morning hours.

 

When he woke up the next morning, Kylo was curled up on the concrete floor of the studio. He sat up, grimacing at the dull ache in his head and throat. For a small moment, he’d completely forgotten last night, but the sight of his phone on the floor nearby with a distinctly red fingerprint smeared on the screen brought him back to reality. He had a choice to make.

 

Reaching over, Kylo grabbed his phone and did his best to wipe the paint off with his shirt before checking his notifications. He remembered the text he’d received shortly before his mother called, and sure enough, it was a text from Phasma. Instead of another reminder of when and where to meet today, it was a long, composed message about how his mother had contacted her and that she would probably be calling within the next few days. He growled in frustration, remembering that she had sold out his information and whereabouts without talking with him about it beforehand. In her defense, Kylo had never mentioned his parents to her, much less give her orders to keep them from knowing how to reach him.

 

His fingers, too big for the tiny keyboard, tap out a reply while Kylo continues to sit on the floor with his shoulders hunched. The gist of his response is that yes, his mother did indeed contact him, and he was not particularly happy with that fact. He also mentioned that he was sorting through family problems and that she should just email him any important information she was planning on sharing at their meeting. To his credit, he also promised to explain the situation more in depth when he finally made sense of it himself.

 

Unsure of what next to do, Kylo wandered around the studio and mindlessly tidied up; packed up paints, tossed a pillow back onto the futon, threw away any empty food containers. Too-quickly, there was nothing else to clean.

 

Kylo changed into different clothes and rode his bike back to his apartment. Once there, he dug out a duffel bag from under his bed and started throwing whatever clean clothes remained in his closet into it. Several other random items from around his bedroom and bathroom joined the clothes. This was all procedural action up until the point that Kylo sat in front of his old desktop computer and pulled up an airline website. Now it was all very real. He hesitated for a while before buying his ticket.

 

The cab ride was uncomfortable, and arriving at the airport was even worse. Kylo walked all the way out of the building and stood on the curb twice, but grudgingly returned inside both times. There was an air of unreality to the situation, intensified by the fact that he hadn’t seen his family in almost a decade. They didn’t feel as concrete in his mind anymore, their problems felt far away. Kylo knew Leia’s words would haunt him and that he would torture himself for the rest of his life if he didn’t see this through. If he landed and realized how catastrophic of a mistake it was, he would buy a plane ticket back to New York with the knowledge that he’d at least given it a chance. That’s what he told himself in his mantra through the flight.


	2. Chapter 2

Once the plane was airborne, Kylo found his mother’s phone number in his Recent Calls log and sent a message informing her that his flight was landing that evening. His anxiety didn’t settle as the hours passed. He tried to sleep, but any movement from the passenger beside him or bit of turbulence jostled him wide awake. Eventually, he gave up.

 

Sweat-slicked hands clenched and unclenched as Kylo made his way to the entrance of the airport, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. The sheer amount of people surrounding him on the journey from the terminals to the front doors was only adding to the deep discomfort that twisted through his body; the noise of their conversations drowning out his own thoughts, their shoulders continually smacking into his arms as if he wasn’t a highly visible 6’3” man. By the time the large glass windows at the front of the building came into view, Kylo sighed in relief despite himself. What, or rather _who_ , was waiting for him at the doors stopped him short of his destination.

 

Han stood by a small waiting area with chairs and vending machines, leaning against a wall and sipping from a can of root beer he’d presumably gotten from one the aforementioned machines. His hair was definitely greyed from its natural dark brown, his face more aged than Kylo remembered, but he was otherwise the same: posture relaxed but self-assured, wearing the same faded brown leather jacket he always did. His eyes were turned to the nearby windows, watching the planes as they landed or prepared for the next takeoff. The sun was almost down, but an orange stain still remained as it faded into dark blue.

 

 “I wasn’t expecting you,” Kylo said when he forced himself to come closer, mentally congratulating himself for not sounding like he felt. Han slowly turned his head back towards the source of the words, and having those familiar hazel eyes on him made Kylo wish he’d never even come.

 

“Your mom called and told me you’d be landing at six thirty, so I came to get you.”

 

“You didn’t need to…shouldn’t you be in bed?” Kylo said, suspicious. Han didn’t look very sick at all. From all that Leia said over the phone, Kylo had expected ventilators and a heart monitor. Maybe she had exaggerated the extent of his illness just to make Kylo feel like he had to come, or maybe she’d completely lied about it.

 

Han seemed to read his face and huffed a laugh. “I’m sick, Ben. Don’t look at me like that. I’m not bed ridden just yet, but I’m sick.”

 

Having it confirmed directly by Han himself felt like a sucker punch to Kylo’s stomach. He swallowed, trying to maintain eye contact. “I don’t go by that name anymore,” he says, instead of the many other things he could’ve said instead.

 

“Yeah, I heard. _Kylo Ren_ , or something.” Han’s eyes glimmered with vague amusement, the way they did when he was about to say something just to pick at Kylo. “I’m not calling you that.”

 

“ _It’s what I want to be called_ —“ Kylo fires back immediately, never failing to rise to Han’s needling remarks.

 

“I’m dying. I’ll call you by your name while you’re here, the name I gave you.” That makes Kylo fall quiet. The mood shifts from awkward to sour. Kylo is first to start walking for the doors, a second pair of footsteps behind him informs him that Han is close behind.

 

By the time they make it to the parking lot, the sky is completely dark. Han silently leads them to his black El Camino, and Kylo sits in the passenger seat with his bag stuffed between his knees. The drive to the house is completely quiet, and just as uncomfortable as Kylo feared it would be. The scent of the cologne Han always wears is strongly mixed with the smell of cigarette smoke. All of Han’s buddies seemed to smoke. Kylo kept his eyes on the buildings out the window as they passed by, recognizing most of them even when bathed in darkness.

 

The house, to Kylo’s mild surprise, is the same one he’d grown up in, and not the governor’s mansion. He’d assumed that when Leia was elected to her new office, she’d take up residence there instead. Han seemed to once again read his mind.

 

“Leia travels a lot, and a mansion doesn’t really suit either of us, so we opted to keep this house instead. Just put a new addition on it, too.” He parks beside a much more inconspicuous car that Kylo assumes is for Leia’s use when she isn’t traveling.

 

Han walks up to the front door first, Kylo a looming shadow behind him. “You can sleep in the guest room. There’s some clutter and boxes in there, but the bed is made and empty,” Han says over his shoulder, pushing the door open and letting Kylo follow him inside before shutting and locking the door behind them. Kylo frowns, despite having no right to be upset. He’s been gone for years, why wouldn’t his parents have done something else with his old bedroom?

 

“And one more thing,” Han begins while his arms cross over his chest, the signature pose he assumes when uncomfortable. He opens his mouth to continue speaking, but the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs interrupts him. In unison, Kylo and Han both turn their heads to the bottom of the stairs. Kylo expects it to perhaps be Leia, but instead it’s a young girl, no older than sixteen. The girl looks between them, wide-eyed.

 

“Is this him?” she asks, sounding…hopeful. Her expression is a little guarded, but Kylo can see the glint in her eyes.

 

“I told you to stay in your room, kid,” Han replies. “Until I have the chance to explain the situation to him first.”

 

“Your room?” Kylo repeats, confused. The girl seems to be confused too. They both turn their gaze to Han, who looks even more uncomfortable.

 

“Your old room,” he clarifies. “Rey, this is Ben. Ben, Rey. Leia and I took her in about three years ago.”

 

Kylo’s eyes flick between Rey and Han as if they’re both insane. “ _What?_ ”

 

“I’m their foster daughter,” Rey says, obviously not expecting Kylo to know nothing about her. “They took me in when I was eleven.”

 

Han hunches his shoulders, likely preparing himself for a fight. Kylo seriously considers giving him one, but decides instead to head straight up the stairs, brushing past a startled Rey as he goes. The stairs lead up to a hallway, with the guest room at one end and Kylo’s— _Rey’s_ bedroom at the other. He makes sure to slam the door shut, just for the extra dramatic effect.

 

As promised, boxes and miscellaneous objects are pushed up against the walls. The room is painted an inoffensive purple, the curtains are floral print, and the bedspread looks freshly washed and made. Kylo tosses his duffel bag aside and dumps himself onto the bed. It’s a double, barely long enough to accommodate his long legs, but the night thus far has sufficiently drained Kylo enough to not really care.

 

A cursory look at his phone notifications revealed that Phasma had texted him a couple times during his flight and on the drive to the house. The first one was her letting him know that she had emailed all the information of their meeting, and the second one said that he needed to read it and reply as soon as time permitted. He tossed it aside and focused his glare on the stack of boxes. Most of it was junk that Han had collected over the years, but some had “Ben” scribbled on them in marker.

 

He can hear voices coming from the first floor, Han and Rey discussing what had just happened. Han was probably breaking the news now, much too late, that her vague notions of his and Leia’s mysterious son were wrong. He is not going to become her big brother, isn’t even approachable. He has a temper worse than Leia’s, he’s more stubborn than Han, he’s selfish and self-serious like his grandfather.

 

His parents had replaced him. It was obviously more complicated than that, but that was how Kylo felt. They fucked up their first attempt at a kid, so they adopted a cute little girl with big brown eyes. She was probably on the honor roll at school, plays on some kind of sports team. Why was he even here?

 

His train of thought, which was mostly just upsetting him more and more by the minute, was interrupted when Han opened the door, knocking on the door-frame afterward as if the action made his presence any less intrusive.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

“No we don’t.”

 

“Quit acting like such a child. You’re what, 24 now?”

 

“26.”

 

Han sighs. “Let’s talk. You’re here for the night whether you like it or not. We might as well.” Kylo says nothing, turning to lay on his back and stare up at the ceiling, so Han presses on.

 

“The main reason we wanted you home was because I’m sick. That’s the truth. To be fair, we didn’t mean to lie by omission about Rey, but you were already flying home before Leia or I could come up with a way to break the news. I decided that I would tell you when you got here, and then I’d introduce her.”

 

“Why did I even need to come home when you’ve obviously moved on?” Kylo asks.

 

“We didn’t move on. You _left_.” Han replies, sounding just a little hurt. Maybe the last few years had softened him up. “We tried to keep contact with you, but you made it very clear you wanted no part of us. I can’t even begin to tell you how much turmoil you put your mother through. I’ll be the first to admit, maybe we weren’t the world’s greatest parents, but we loved you. Still do.

 

“Leia wanted to have another shot at parenting, had been researching foster parenting for a while and wanted us to open our home to a kid who needed it. I wasn’t on board at first, considering how tough it was for us the first time around, but then I actually met Rey.”

 

“And you realized she’s totally different than me.”

 

“No, I realized she reminded me a lot of you.”

 

Kylo falls completely silent, unsure if he should feel hurt that Rey probably got better parenting out of Han and Leia than he ever had, or guilty for thinking so lowly of his parents.

 

“She’s a lot like you,” Han repeats. “She’s headstrong, short-tempered, constantly challenges what either of us tell her. Maybe a little better at taking a joke, but overall, the similarities were what made me want to try again. I don’t know, maybe in a strange way we were trying to make amends as best we could. It wasn’t the same as having you back, but it’s been a comfort.”

 

“Why am I here?” Kylo asks again as he sits up, but it’s addressed as much to himself as it is to Han. He’s been asking that question since he landed.

 

“I can’t answer that,” Han replies. “If you want to leave tomorrow, you can. It means a lot that you even showed up back here.” He pushes off the wall where he’d been leaning and begins to leave. “If you’re hungry, there’s food in the fridge. Rey won’t bother you if you go downstairs, I already talked to her,” he says on his way out.

 

Once he was alone again, Kylo laid back down on the bed and sighed deeply. None of this was going to be straightforward or easy, of course it wouldn’t. This was exactly the brand of drama his family had carried on for generations. All that was left for Kylo to do was decide if it was worth it to stay or not.


	3. Chapter 3

Morning came around faster than expected. Kylo had spent the first few hours that night twisting around on the slightly-too-small bed, thinking about anything and everything. Most of his thoughts led him to Snoke’s exhibition and how Kylo could possibly complete his three pieces for it while stuck in New Mexico. Somehow, against all odds, he’d fallen asleep around midnight. Many people claimed that the best advice was to get a good night’s sleep before addressing an issue. Kylo didn’t feel any clarity when he woke up, nor did he feel any less emotionally wrecked; it had been a while since he’d had to deal with this much inner turmoil.

 

After sitting up and realizing that he’d slept in all of his clothes but his shoes, Kylo decided the first thing he should do was shower and change. It was early enough that there was a possibility that neither Rey nor Han were awake yet, so Kylo cautiously padded into the hallway with a change of clothes in hand. Sure enough, the bathroom was vacant. He made sure to lock the door behind him.

 

After the shower, Kylo went straight back to the guest room and pulled out his laptop from his bag, tossing the wad of dirty clothes in the general vicinity. An email from Phasma awaited him, and Kylo had already wasted enough time before responding, so it was the top priority. The email basically outlined the requirements for his contributions to the exhibit, the recommended canvas sizes and mediums. The rest was more detailed information to look at about the exhibit itself: this year’s overall theme and the announcement of a new location instead of the previous gallery. This part surprised Kylo, who’d assumed that Snoke would want to continue with tradition. Apparently, the new building Snoke had recently acquired was larger and grander, more befitting of the occasion.

 

Kylo typed out a reply immediately after reading the email, including a few minor questions here and there, and then went into more detail about where he currently was and why. He reread Phasma’s email four or five times before sorting through the rest of his inbox. Finally, he shut his laptop and tried to decide the next course of action.

 

One of the exercises he learned to keep his head clear and emotions at bay was to breathe. In for five seconds, hold for five seconds, out for five seconds. Kylo repeated this breathing for several minutes, trying his best to compose himself. When he finally stepped back into the hallway, the house was still quiet. Kylo glances at his old bedroom door, now adorned with glittery blue letters that spell out “Rey”.

 

The lights were out downstairs, but the light spilling from the windows was more than enough to see by. Kylo had been away for years, but the house hadn’t changed. His parents were creatures of habit: the spoons were still in the drawer to the left of the sink, and the bowls were still on the cabinet to the right. Kylo sat at the same old kitchen table and ate cereal in the quiet. As soon he got up to wash the bowl, a voice came from behind him.

 

“Did you sleep well…?” Rey has the exact tone of someone who’s unsure trying to sound sure.

 

“Didn’t he tell you not to talk to me?” Kylo responds, keeping his back to her. He shuts the water off and reaches for a hand towel.

 

“Last night. And I didn’t bother you.”

 

“You’re bothering me now.”

 

“How so?” Kylo hears the scrape of a kitchen chair being pulled out. “Are you the type that needs coffee to function? We have a French press in the cabinet.”

 

“Are you waiting for something?” he asks as he turns back to face her, head cocking to the side.

 

“You can hardly blame me for being curious,” Rey replies. There’s a challenge in her eyes. “I’ve heard only vague bits and pieces about you over the years, and I’ve seen old photographs of you, but very little else. And now you’re here.”

 

“There’s probably a reason for that,” he says cryptically, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure how well you can read the atmosphere, but I wasn’t a model son, and my parents weren’t model parents. Our relationship is nonexistent.”

 

“I _assumed_ that was the case,” she begins thoughtfully, “but if you’re here now, doesn’t that mean you want things to be different? Han and Leia seem hopeful.”

 

“Things _won’t_ be different.” Kylo speaks as someone who knows and accepts the bitter truth, but still wishes it _wasn’t_ true. “They might be able to keep the act going for a while longer, but eventually they’ll slip. They’ll let you down if you stick around long enough.”

 

Rey frowns at this, becoming defensive. “They’re doing just fine with me, and have been for the last three years. I don’t know your past, but I think you’re wrong about them.”

 

Kylo feels his eye twitch. There are a lot of things he could say right now, but most of them aren’t appropriate to tell a little girl. “I’ve known them for eighteen years, maybe I have a slightly better understanding than you do.”

 

“I’ve known them _now_ , in the present, and I think that counts for more,” Rey fires back, irritated. “I believe that people grow and change over time, even though it’s obviously not always the case.”

 

Kylo takes in a deep breath and wills himself to calm down. He refuses to argue with a child, he’s above that. Usually.

 

“Kitchen’s yours,” he grumbles as he marches away. “I wouldn’t approach me anymore if I were you. I don’t like children.”

 

“Are you threatening me?” Rey calls after him, incredulous.

 

He walks from the kitchen to the living room and paces for a moment. While debating between barricading himself in the guest room and venturing outside for a while, Kylo almost bumps into Han.

 

“Have you made any coffee?” Han asks, still dressed in his pajamas.

 

“I don’t drink coffee.”

 

Han scoffs at this and makes his way to the kitchen without further comment. Kylo watches him go and hears Rey greet him once he enters. Kylo decides he wants to leave before he snaps at one or both of them. A quick trip upstairs to grab his phone and wallet, and he strode back for the front door.

 

“You going out?” Han shouts from the kitchen, apparently still possessing the uncanny ability to know when someone was leaving or entering the house. It never mattered how quiet Kylo was when he used to sneak in through the window at night, Han always knew.

 

“Yes.” He grunts in response, then pauses. “Need something?”

 

There’s a silence, followed by, “Nah. Take the spare key from the hook by the door.”

 

Kylo grabs the spare house key and pockets it before leaving as quickly as he can. God forbid Han decides that Rey should tag along.

 

It’s a quiet Saturday morning, and the heat hasn’t settled in for the day quite yet. The houses on this street all look the same: southwestern style and sparse front yards filled with rocks and cacti. Kylo recognizes the addresses to some of the neighbors his family knew as he passes: a middle-aged couple who frequently invited themselves to dinners, a big religious family with seven annoying children who all dressed alike, an old lady whose yard Kylo used to mow during the summer. He didn’t recognize any of the cars parked in the driveways.

 

The neighborhood was backed up against a strip of shops, ranging from family owned general stores to high-end boutiques. If Kylo walked briskly, he could reach the nearby café in ten minutes. He hopes it’s still open after all these years. Sure enough, he reaches the street corner and can see the weathered sign for the coffee shop. It looks exactly the same, inside and out. Most of Kylo’s pleasant adolescent memories took place in this café, it was a close-by place to escape to when his parents were arguing too loud and he needed to study. This early in the morning it’s bustling with activity, and nearly every table is taken.

 

Kylo takes his place in line and checks his phone. No new messages from Phasma yet, so he breathes a little easier for the moment. Eventually, it’s his turn to order, so Kylo tucks his phone into his back pocket so he can look up at the menu. Once he orders and pays, he turns back towards the tables and smashes into someone, nearly taking them off their feet. Instinctively, Kylo reaches out and steadies them.

 

“For fuck’s sake,” the man growls. He looks down at his shirt, which is now stained with the tea he just spilled when he almost fell.

 

“Sorry—” Kylo says awkwardly, immediately dropping his grip on his arms. That’s when the man finally looks up at Kylo, and their eyes meet. Recognition dawns on both of them immediately.

 

“Hux,” he’s dumbfounded for the first few seconds. Armitage Hux is the last person Kylo would’ve expected to run into while he was here. He’d assumed that the valedictorian of their year would’ve picked up and moved elsewhere. Especially Hux, who had too many ambitions to name.

 

“ _Solo_ ,” he sounds surprised too, but derision and annoyance drown it out. He says Kylo’s name like he’s spitting out poison. No, he’s a little too _bored_ for that to be accurate. Perhaps more like he’s spitting out something unpleasant. “I assume the next words out of your mouth will be that you’ll pay for my dry cleaning?”

 

“I didn’t know you were right behind me when I turned around,” Kylo grumbles back. Eight years have passed, and it took less than 15 seconds for Hux to get on his nerves.

 

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’ve spilt tea all over a white shirt. Move.” he pushes past Kylo to a table with straws and napkins, and puts his now empty cup aside to start blotting himself. For lack of anything better to do, Kylo stays nearby to continue being chewed out. “You know, if this was fresh, I’d have second degree burns right now.”

 

“Good thing it wasn’t,” Kylo deadpans.

 

“Spare me that, really. I’m not in the mood to hear the idiocy that comes out of your mouth.” Hux pauses and looks back at Kylo, suspicious. “What are you even doing beck here? I heard you moved away right after graduation.”

 

“I did.”

 

“Visiting family, then?” he snorts, returning to wiping at his shirt. From anyone else, that might be well-intentioned small-talk. Hux _knew_ Kylo though, knew his family.

 

“Yeah, my dad’s dying.” Kylo says it for morbid overkill, to shock Hux, but it mostly just makes him feel sick to his stomach. It does give Hux pause, though.

 

“Oh. Tell your mother I’m sorry to hear that. I always did like _her_ ,” the way he says it implies that it’s not a compliment to Leia, but an insult to the rest of the family. Kylo thinks that the only reason Hux even liked his mother was because she was successful in politics and he wanted every advantage he could get. There was always some devious intention when it came to Hux.

 

“What are you still doing here? I thought you had bigger plans for your future,” Kylo replies, wishing to return the jab. Pointing out his shortcomings had always been the easiest way to light Hux’s fuse when they were younger.

 

To Kylo’s dissatisfaction, Hux neatly tosses the napkins he’s used and turns an impassive gaze back to him. “I’ve done well for myself right here, I think. I have no idea if I can say the same for you, and I don’t have the time to care.” He walks past Kylo again as he starts to make his way to the exit. “Until next time, Solo.”

 

“I go by Kylo Ren, now,” Kylo says before Hux can take more than a couple steps, which earns a slightly perplexed expression as he turns halfway back around. Kylo has no idea why he said that, it sounds dumber every time he corrects someone. Judging by Hux’s expression, he seems to agree that it is, in fact, dumb.

 

“ _Ren_ ,” he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He almost says something else, but then glances at the pick-up counter. “Your drink is ready.”

 

With that, he disappears out the door. Kylo grabs his order and looks around, but there still aren’t any tables open.


	4. Chapter 4

The following week is spent by Han and Kylo awkwardly tiptoeing around each other. Kylo mostly stays at the café on his laptop, trying to narrow down three strong concepts to start working on and emailing Phasma with his ideas and progress. The time he actually spends at the house is either for sleep, or working out in the back yard where he has some space. He eats breakfast early in the morning and eats dinner late at night.

 

Han seems content with this routine for now. From subtle observations, Kylo tracks the progression of his illness. Most days, he seems completely normal, but on some he coughs nonstop and stays in his recliner until it’s time to go to bed. Kylo also notices that Rey is diligent in her care of Han, bringing him things from the fridge and doing chores around the house to ease his burden whenever she isn’t at school. She’s a real daughter to him, actually doing things to make his life easier while Kylo just monitors from afar.

 

It’s a strange kind of balance within him, how Kylo would swear on his life that he doesn’t care about his family, and yet acting so contradictory. He cut off contact for years, but kept tabs on Han and Leia. He had come back the moment he found out Han was sick. Now that he was here, he avoided Han and Rey like the plague, yet he made sure that things were okay before leaving to the café in the mornings, always mentioning in some way that his phone was with him in case he needed to be reached. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, Kylo couldn’t bring himself to not care. Deep down, he did. Even if it was in his own dysfunctional way, and even if he would die before admitting it.

 

On Friday, Kylo is sitting at a table in the café when his phone starts vibrating loudly against the plastic tabletop. He picks it up immediately, heart beating a little faster when he sees Han’s name flashing on the screen. It was still disorienting, the thought that he now had both his parents' numbers programmed into his phone.

 

“I need a favor,” Han says immediately after Kylo answers.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m at a doctor’s appointment right now, but Rey’s school called. They need someone to meet with the headmaster and pick her up from the office.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Didn’t say. I’d go myself, but I’m getting a bunch of tests done today.”

 

“I’ll go,” Kylo says, grudgingly. He’s already gathering his things to go.

 

“Thanks. You can take Leia’s car, the keys should be on the hook by the door. It’s your old high school, so shouldn’t be hard to find your way there.” He hangs up without waiting for a response, not that Kylo is feeling very talkative.

 

The trek back to the house gives Kylo a chance to remember the quickest route from the house to the school. It’s a private academy for rich kids and high achieving students who get in with high grades and recommendation letters. Kylo, although from a well-off family, did not fit in there. Academics had never been his strong suit. His grades were fine, but it took a lot of studying. And in addition to his home situation and maintaining an acceptable GPA, there had also been the struggle of dealing with all the entitled little monsters he called classmates. Kylo had made his parents very familiar with the headmaster’s office, to say the least.

 

Leia’s car is the perfect size for her, which means Kylo’s legs are cramped and the steering wheel is almost against his chest. He drives fast, not knowing how long Rey’s been waiting in the office. When he pulls up in the parking lot, the building is still large and imposing as he remembers. He stares up at it and sighs, bracing himself for frustration.

 

The secretary is not the same one from his days as a student, obviously, but he would’ve sworn she was if he hadn’t been here every week. She looked up from her game of desktop solitaire and eyed him warily, her manicured hand pushing a clipboard towards him.

 

“Sign in, please,” she says, deadpan.

 

“I’m here for Rey,” he informs her awkwardly while scribbling out his name and the current time.

 

“Where’s Mr. Solo then?” she asks nosily, arching one too-thin eyebrow.

 

 _None of your fucking business_ , Kylo wants to say, but this is a school, and he needs to be civil if at all possible. “He had an appointment he couldn’t get around. I’m here, though. Instead.”

 

“Hm. Didn’t know he had another kid.” She appraises Kylo’s signature suspiciously and he barely suppresses a growl.

 

“He’s not too talkative about things that don’t concern other people,” he says rudely, digging out his license and slapping it down on top of the clipboard for the secretary to see. The secretary looks startled, then affronted. She picks up the license and appraises it for a moment before handing it back. “ _Now_ I see the family resemblance,” she says irritably. “Door at the end of the hall, the headmaster has been waiting long enough.”

 

Kylo rolls his eyes and pockets his license before heading down to the familiar door. He takes a moment to smooth out his shirt and run a hand through his messy hair before entering. What awaits him must be some kind of joke, hand delivered by the universe. He groans audibly at the sight of the man perched in a chair behind the imposing oak desk. Rey and said man both look up from the conversation Kylo just interrupted.

 

“ _Of  bloody course_ ,” Hux hisses under his breath, then quickly composes himself. “I assume you’re here in Mr. Solo’s stead?”

 

Kylo takes a deep breath before properly entering the room, the door falling shut behind him. He sinks into the chair beside Rey, and glances at her as he does so. She’s dressed in gym clothes, some scrapes decorating her knees and forearms. There’s a bandage on her face, which he can barely see with her head turned so completely away from him, her eyes boring holes into the carpet instead of meeting Kylo’s.

 

“What happened?” he asks, but it sounds more like a demand, in spite of himself. Hux meets his eyes with a steady gaze, hands folding atop the desk.

 

“I’m assuming that you don’t know about Rey’s past offenses due to being absent for the last several years, is that a fair assessment?”

 

“Offenses?” Kylo raises an eyebrow, stealing a glance at Rey before looking back at Hux. She looks like she’s trying to make herself disappear.

 

“Right. Of course you don’t.” Hux huffs, annoyed, while grabbing a manila folder off his desk and flipping it open. “Since the beginning of the school year, in August, Rey has been involved in four fights. Four fights in just three months, with a history of disruption and misconduct at her middle school as well. I’ve tried being lenient with her, considering her past, and there’s always the possibility that whoever she’s fighting with is at fault, but this is the _fourth_ offense, and detention won’t cut it. I’m going to have to suspend her.”

 

Kylo takes a few moments to process this information, his preconceived image of Rey crumbling and reforming completely. Rey had been in fights all semester? And had a history of disorder and fights? Kylo had completely misjudged her. She seemed to want it that way, though, considering the way she behaved at home, and her current attempts at teleporting away after seeing him walk in instead of Han.

 

“Can I see that?” he asks, reaching out for the folder. Hux sighs before closing it and handing it over. Kylo flips through, taking time to look over each page.

 

“It’s the same group of kids?”

 

“Yes, it seems that she instigates with the same group of kids. We’ve had them all come into my office, as well as witnesses to the fights.”

 

Kylo looks at Hux skeptically. “You don’t think it’s suspicious that Rey would go after the same group of kids, especially when she comes out looking like this?” Rey is watching their exchange now, warily.

 

“You haven’t seen the other kids,” Hux replies, unimpressed. “She nearly broke a girl’s nose this time around. I can’t have a student assaulting others on my campus and stand idly by. The ones who fought back have been given detention for a week.”

 

Kylo doesn’t have any further information, and doubts that Rey will talk to both of them right now, so he hands the folder back. “How long is she suspended?”

 

Hux sets the folder aside and glances at a calendar. “Today is Friday, and she’s suspended for…three days. Have her back to school on Thursday of next week.”

 

Kylo is already up out of his seat before Hux is finished talking. Rey glances between them before scrambling out of her seat to follow after Kylo when he stomps out of the office. They pass the secretary on their way out, who looks at them with disdain. The glare Kylo returns is enough to get her to look away.

 

“Get in,” he says as they approach the car. He wants to put as much distance between them and this institute as possible. Rey obediently climbs into the passenger side, tossing her backpack into the backseat.

 

“It’s not true,” she says quietly, once they start heading back to the house.

 

“What isn’t?” Kylo stops at a red light and glances at Rey. She looks surprised that he’s hearing her out.

 

“Those kids. They always start fights with me.” She leans back in her seat and folds her arms. Kylo drives on when the light turns green. “They call me _white trash_ , don’t think I belong in a private academy.”

 

Kylo is quickly coming to empathize with Rey. “Three days isn’t that bad,” he says quietly.

 

“I didn’t want this to be our second conversation,” she looks out the window at the buildings they pass. “I didn’t want to start any more trouble for myself or for Han this semester. I certainly didn’t want you to think I’m just some delinquent kid that Han and Leia took in out of pity.”

 

“You don’t need to worry about my opinion of you,” Kylo says, not meaning it to sound as comforting as it does. He’s only going to be in Rey’s life for a very fleeting time, never to be heard from again afterward. She should focus on herself, not what an estranged pseudo-relative thinks of her. “Besides, I’ve done more damage at that school than you have.”

 

“Really?” In Kylo’s periphery, he sees Rey look back to him. She must be searching the profile of his face for proof that he’s willing to talk to her, that this is really okay.

 

“Yup,” he replies, turning onto their street. “You’re fighting kids during gym. I was cursing out teachers and starting cafeteria riots. You won’t be the disappointment of this family just because you busted some girl’s nose.” Not by a long shot.

 

“You’ll let me tell Han, right? I want to be the one to tell him.” Rey looks disappointed in herself. As they pull into the driveway she turns in her seat to collect her bag.

 

“Yup,” Kylo says again, parking. He pulls the key out of the ignition and unlocks the doors so they can get out, and _hopefully_ part ways.

 

Rey seems to pause a moment, thinking about the next words out of her mouth. “Han mentioned something about Headmaster Hux being your former classmate. Is that true?”

 

Kylo grunts affirmatively, not in the mood to talk about Hux. They walk up to the front door with Kylo in the lead, trying to find the house key amongst the mess of Leia’s keyring.

 

“Was he always this much of an asshole?”

 

The words make Kylo fumble the keys as he bites back a laugh.

 

“ _Yup._ ”


	5. Chapter 5

Rey leaves Kylo alone, miraculously, almost immediately after they settle into the house. She stays in her room until Han comes home, and then pulls him aside for a private conversation in the dining room. Kylo can’t hear anything from the guest room upstairs other than the unintelligible sounds of their voices going back and forth. This isn’t surprising in the least, Han’s reactions to most situations is minimalist at best, his voice barely ever rising above a monotone. He’s probably fixing Rey in an unwavering look of disappointment and resignation, telling her that he doesn’t know what to do with the information she’s sharing. Rey is probably feeling guilty but not knowing how she can pay restitution for her actions. Han certainly won’t offer solutions. Kylo knows this kind of conversation by heart, the fact that it’s a different kid and a different decade is of little consequence.

 

 Kylo is stretched out in the living room with his laptop resting on his thighs the next day when Han shuffles in and sinks into his Lay-Z-Boy for the afternoon. He doesn’t turn on the TV immediately, which alerts Kylo that he’s probably going to talk to him. He doesn’t look in Han’s direction, but stops typing, his fingers stilled on the keyboard.

 

“The test results aren’t looking good,” Han says with grim matter-of-factness. “Didn’t think I’d get any good news, but it’s a little worse than what I expected.”

 

“How so?” Kylo once again feels a sense of unreality about this entire situation. Regardless of how he feels about Han, too many emotions to name, in his mind his father was untouchable, immortal. Always the same imposing figure in Kylo’s life, forever.

 

“I’m in a steady decline now.” Kylo glances at Han at those words, but Han has his eyes fixed on the black television screen. He looks more exhausted than Kylo can ever remember him looking. “The doc is giving me even less time than I was initially told. Months.”

 

Kylo’s mouth feels dry. He wasn’t aware of the exact timeline of Han’s deteriorating health, he’d assumed Leia would be here to fill him in on whatever he would need to know. Leia had always been logical and level-headed to a fault, but good at explaining information and problem-solving all the same. Kylo almost wished she was here to help sort through this, but for now until he didn’t know how long, he was free-falling through this process with his equally emotionally unavailable father. Trying to navigate Han’s illness alone with him would be torture for both of them, without Leia there to translate it all into something they could grasp, without her there to talk to doctors, get into contact with specialists, and pull strings that would yield more answers. Han and Kylo simply didn’t have the tools necessary to accomplish that.

 

“When will mom be home?” Kylo asks numbly.

 

“Another week or so. She’s had important meetings all month, but she says she’ll be here as soon as she can. I think we can manage alright until she’s back.” Han sounds assured, used to being on his own after being married to a politician for so long. Kylo doesn’t feel as confident, but doesn’t mention it. Leia will be home soon enough, all he has to do is keep an eye on Han until then. It’s manageable, for now.

 

Han is silent for a while, then turns the TV on, marking the end of their conversation. Kylo dismisses himself to the guest room, shutting his laptop and slinking away without comment. He lays across the bed, considering his options. He hadn’t really planned out the duration of this trip, considering that he didn’t even know for sure that he would have the nerve to board the plane in the first place. Now he was here, though, and it was time to start thinking long-term.

 

 _Months_ , Han had said. Just months left to live. Kylo felt sick to his stomach at the idea of leaving now, before the end came. He knew that he wouldn’t forgive himself if he went back to New York for selfish reasons and Han died while he wasn’t here. It was strange that when he was miles away, it had been so easy to be cold and clinical in the way he thought of his parents, yet now that he was here, the emotion was so unrelenting and intense that he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving.

 

That presented new problems. If Kylo was choosing to stay and see this through to its conclusion, he would have no choice than to start his paintings here. That meant he would have to ship them to New York when the deadline came, even though it was very unlikely that they’d arrive in pristine condition. It also meant that even if he stayed in Santa Fe for the foreseeable future, he’d have to go to New York for Snoke’s exhibit and then rush back to continue waiting for his father to die, all the while he was out of town worrying instead of enjoying his success. All of it was miserable, but the alternative was worse.

 

On Monday, Kylo woke up and changed into somewhat-presentable clothing. If he was staying long-term, he’d need to get more clothes soon. For now, dark wash jeans and a black shirt were good enough. He was heading for the door when Rey approached, seemingly from nowhere.

 

“Where are you going off to?”

 

“Art store,” he grunts impatiently. Rey is suspiciously no longer dressed in the sweatpants he’d seen her wearing earlier that morning. Now she was wearing jeans and a sweater, her hair brushed and pulled back in a bun. “Where are _you_ going?” he shoots back, eyebrow raised in suspicion.

 

“With you?” she asks hopefully. “Han is still sleeping, and I finished my homework over the weekend. Can I get out of the house, please?”

 

Kylo scrutinizes Rey for a moment, almost says no, but then he reconsiders. If he was a fourteen year old, the last thing he’d want would be to be left home alone with his sick father. Han was still in bed right now, where he’d likely be when they returned.

 

“Fine,” he relents, ignoring the triumphant look on Rey’s face. It seems that despite his best efforts, Rey is slowly but surely gaining ground with him. He’d originally hoped to not so much as speak to her, but that seemed less and less likely at this point.

 

Rey followed Kylo out to Leia’s tiny Buick, and happily climbed into the passenger seat. Amazingly, she didn’t feel the need to talk, nor did she turn on the radio. They drove in silence to the art supply store nearby. Kylo warned her to not touch everything while they were inside the store as they entered. She didn’t seem to understand why he was worried she would, until she saw the inside and all the shelves of paints and markers and sketchbooks. It was wall-to-wall color.

 

“I’ve never been to a store just for art before,” she says in awe, following Kylo to the back but looking around them as they went. “This is so cool.”

 

Kylo agrees, but says nothing. Art stores bring a sense of calmness to him, it’s like being surrounded by endless possibilities. This particular store has arranged its products in an appealing rainbow gradient with all the brands of paints, pigments, markers and pencils. It smells like fresh cut wood and clean paper.

 

The canvases are all piled against the back wall, organized by size. Kylo inspects a few different ones, then decides on buying three of the same dimensions. He tucks them under one arm, then moves on to paints and brushes. By the time he’s gathered those supplies, he realizes that Rey has wandered off. Kylo tries to suppress his frustration while he walks to the easels, but ultimately decides he’ll leave Rey here if she doesn’t reappear by the time he checks out.

 

Kylo eventually fills his arms with everything he needs, and heaps it all onto the counter while a young cashier tries to ring everything up. He looks around, trying to catch sight of Rey’s bun in the nearby aisles. Finally, when the cashier is almost done ringing everything up, Rey reappears at his side. She’s holding a small sketchbook and a pack of pencils to her chest with one hand, the other holding a Velcro wallet. Kylo rolls his eyes and takes the items from her, tossing them onto the counter with the rest of his own purchases.

 

“I can pay for that myself,” Rey protests, defensive.

 

“I know, but I don’t want to wait on you once I’m done paying,” Kylo responds, digging his credit card out of his wallet. The cashier puts almost everything into bags, but Kylo takes the sketchbook and pencils and hands them back to Rey. She helps him lug the bags back to the car, stuffing them into the trunk.

 

“Thank you,” she says, once they’re back in the front seat. Her voice is a little shyer than usual.

 

“Don’t mention it,” Kylo says, in a way that means _really, don’t_.

 

Kylo immediately hauls all the bags into the garage once they get home, and begins to set up a temporary workspace. It’s not even a fraction of the quality of his studio in New York, but it’s decent enough to suffice. He sets up the first canvas and starts arranging his supplies. Within a half hour, everything is ready. Kylo considers starting the painting then and there, but holds back the impulse. He wants to make sure his concept is solid before he begins.

 

On Tuesday, Kylo slips away before Rey can join him this time. She’ll just have to be bored at home, keeping an eye on Han. He takes the Buick to the café instead of walking, because Han has given him permission to use it while he’s in town, and because the sky is suspiciously overcast.

 

The thunder is rolling by the time Kylo has a drink ordered and a table tucked into the back. He’s scrolling through his email when he glances up at the front of the store, catching a head of red hair. Hux is standing there at the pick-up counter, looking conflicted. He already has his drink in hand, but his eyes are on the door, where it’s very plain to see that it’s pouring rain. He turns to look at the tables, all of which are taken. His gaze finally falls on Kylo, who raises an eyebrow in return. Hux frowns at the silent suggestion. Kylo rolls his eyes and gestures at the chair across from him. Hux turns back towards the door and takes a step towards it when the rain starts falling even harder than before, practically pounding against the glass. He seems to still consider going outside, but then resigns himself to walking over to Kylo’s table.

 

“I’m not saying thank you,” he says upon sitting down.

 

“You don’t have to say _anything_ ,” Kylo replies, not looking up from his computer screen.

 

Hux scoffs. Kylo can _feel_ from across the table that he’s struggling not to say some smartass thing or other, and tries to suppress the smirk he feels tugging at his mouth. Hux notices it, and he narrows his eyes.

 

“I didn’t know you were in the position of looking after your adopted sister,” he says offhandedly. Of course Hux couldn’t stay quiet when Kylo wanted him to be, only when it suited him, or when it drove Kylo up the wall.

 

“I’m not. Couldn’t exactly leave her there in your talons forever, though.”

 

Hux ignores the insult completely. “You seemed pretty surprised to see me.”

 

“I was. Figured you’d be doing something more _distinguished_ with your life.”

 

Hux takes a drink from his tea. “I already told you that I consider my career to be perfectly good. I’m the headmaster of the number one ranked high school in Santa Fe, and it was _barely_ ranked fifth before I was hired. Under my administration, standardized test scores have increased from an average of 73 to 87, not to mention the majority of behavioral issues have become nonexistent. I’ve also cleared out 90% of all drug and alcohol presence on campus.”

 

Kylo looks up for the first time, the barely-there lopsided smirk back on his face. “Yeah, but you _hate_ kids.”

 

Hus shrugs. “I don’t personally like or want kids, no, but I’m good at _handling_ them. This isn’t the career I had planned for myself, but I like it.”

 

His words surprised Kylo, who could still remember how insatiable Hux had been in high school. He’d been president of the student council, concert master of the orchestra, captain of the debate team, editor of the yearbook, and had _still_ found the time to arrange fundraisers and other events at the school. His ambitions for the future had included, but were not limited to: a career in politics, attending law school, attending medical school, attending engineering school, and the joining the military. His father was a military man himself, and so severe a man that he even intimidated Kylo, who was several inches taller than him by the time he turned 17. Hux seemed intent to collect more college acceptance letters and scholarships by the end of senior year than anyone else; he had done everything in his power to impress his dad during high school, while Kylo seemed to do everything in _his_ power to make Han disown him. Neither of them had been successful.

 

“What is it you do anyway?” Hux asks, eyeing Kylo’s choice of clothes. He’s wearing an old black hoodie with jeans that are ripped at the knees (not a stylistic choice, just heavily worn) and beat-to-shit ankle boots, not to mention his unruly hair has grown to chin length; not exactly the wardrobe of a business professional.

 

“I was in the marines, for four years, and then I became an artist.” Kylo says the words slowly, watching Hux’s face for a reaction. He braces himself for ridicule, or for cruel skepticism, but Hux keeps his expression neutral and seems to consider this information thoughtfully.

 

“The marines,” he repeats, nodding to himself. He looks confused by the second piece of information. “I never considered you the artistic type.”

 

Hux has the right to think that. While he had been the epitome of an overachiever, Kylo was more at liberty to fly under the radar. He was athletically inclined, but never tried out for sports teams because he wasn’t good at teamwork or at keeping his aggression in check. Debate was out of the question as well, for similar reasons. Han had enrolled him in judo and karate instead, where he thrived under the discipline and solitary nature of it.

 

Kylo was intelligent and physically capable, but the problem lie in his social skills, or lack thereof. He was awkward and temperamental, and too smart to hang out with the burnouts and stoners, but not stable or amiable enough to befriend the jocks or honors students. Hux had been good with the business side of interpersonal relationships, but it was warmth and sincerity he lacked. Most people respected and liked him, but he had very few personal friends.

 

He and Kylo could not consider their own relationship throughout grade school to be friendship. It was more of an irrational rivalry. They did not compete in the same arenas; Hux had all the academic prowess and Kylo had all the athletic. They didn’t even run in the same social circles or pursue the same romantic partners throughout high school. They couldn’t seem to settle into the role of friends, considering a fight would break out if they were left alone together for too long, but they also refused to be _nothing_. Their relationship had been frustrating and confusing for them both, and it had baffled the entire school. One week, they spent every spare minute arguing and debating about any and every topic under the sun, inseparable, and the next week they wouldn’t so much as acknowledge the other’s existence. It was impossible to keep up.

 

Now they were here, eight years later. All that lost time should have reduced them to strangers, but Hux was looking at Kylo the same way he did back then, like Kylo could drop dead and he wouldn’t so much as bat an eye, but also like he’d _missed_ him. He’s asking him about his career with judgement in his eyes, but also genuine interest.

 

“I didn’t expect it either,” Kylo admits. The most artistic thing he’d ever done before he started painting had been doodling in the margins of his class notes, which hardly counted as talent in Kylo’s mind. “It just sort of happened. I can’t explain it, but when I’m painting, it feels like I’m the only person on earth. I don’t have to think about anything.”

 

Hux nods, slowly. He doesn’t look like he fully understands, but he accepts it anyway. “I guess we’ve both fallen into places we didn’t expect to be. And now you’ve found your way back here.” He looks like he’s still unsure if this is good news or not.

 

“The rain stopped,” Kylo replies, returning to checking his emails. Hux glances over at the large windows to their right.

 

“So it has.” He seems to deliberate for a moment whether to leave or stay longer, but ultimately chooses on the former. “Tell your sister to stop bloodying up her classmates, or we’ll probably have to see more of each other.”

 

“She’s not my sister,” Kylo says in return, watching Hux get up to start walking for the door.

 

“Whatever you say, _Ren_.” Hux replies with an eye roll. Then he’s gone again.

 

Kylo can’t tell if the use of his alias is an insult, or if Hux has decided he likes it.


	6. Chapter 6

The next few days pass without incident. Han seemed to be tired, but otherwise fine. On Thursday and Friday he even drove Rey to and from school and cooked dinner at night. Kylo spent the week hammering out his final concepts for his paintings. It was a frustrating, meticulous process, particularly because even the most appealing of his ideas didn’t feel good enough. Inspiration was just out of his reach.

 

The issue magnified when Rey invaded Kylo’s workspace. He was sitting on the floor of the garage, surrounded by sheets of paper with different designs and notes scrawled all over them when she tiptoed her way inside and sat down in another corner of the room. Kylo felt a small headache inch closer to a migraine, his jaw clenching in frustration.

 

“What are you doing in here?”

 

“I’ve never seen the full artistic process before and I was curious,” Rey says innocently. “I also figured that this was the place to work in quiet.” She holds up her own sketchbook at Kylo to show that she just wants a place to draw. He wants to kick her out, but this is technically a shared space, and he has no claim over this house even if it wasn’t. Rey has just as much of a right to be here, if not more, Kylo admits to himself grudgingly.

 

He proceeds to completely ignore Rey’s presence and sorts through the different pages around him. Rey sits cross-legged in her corner of the room and starts working on…whatever it is she’s drawing. Occasionally she glances at him when he throws a wadded up piece of paper particularly hard at the trash can across the garage. Kylo doesn’t care, he’s never been good at reigning in his temper and he isn’t going to stop throwing tantrums just because a kid is watching him.

 

They sit in complete silence for nearly an hour, the only noise was the sound of the television being carried over from the living room. Rey seemed to be very thoughtful of her drawings as she worked on them, Kylo only noticed her turn to a new page two or three times. He was slightly impressed that a 14-year-old starting something new would be disciplined enough to see it through for this long. Maybe her attention span was just longer than his had been at 14. Eventually, the papers around Kylo began to diminish as he disqualified more and more ideas. He reaches for one a little farther away when Rey pushes another one closer to him.

 

“I like this one,” she says, not looking up from her sketchbook. Kylo raises an eyebrow, but takes the page she’d mentioned and examines it.

 

“Why?” he asks, looking back at her. This particular concept is one that he’d written out simply because it had crossed his mind. The color palette was unusual for him, blues and purples instead of reds and oranges. Yellow was still included, but instead of adding to a feeling of anger or passion, it brought a sense of calm and happiness to the cool tones. This was an idea he’d planned to scrap immediately upon revisiting.

 

“Because it’s different,” she replies, finally looking up at Kylo to meet his eyes. “All your others are the same thing repeated over and over. That one is unique. And besides, I like the colors.” Kylo suddenly remembers the blue letters on Rey’s bedroom door.

 

He studies the piece of paper a while longer, then sets it aside. Rey watches him a moment before she returns to her own work. After twenty more minutes, Kylo had sorted through all the papers, and ended up with a very small stack of final options that he may or may not also throw away later. He sets them aside for now and stands up, brushing the small film of dust off his pants. Rey sits up straighter and uncrosses her legs.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I’m done for now,” kylo says, shrugging. “You can stay in here, if you want.”

 

“I think I’ve had enough of sitting for now, actually,” Rey says, closing her sketchbook and standing up. She stretches with her arms raised above her head and shakes the numbness out of her feet.

 

They part ways when Rey heads to the living room and Kylo goes upstairs to change into workout clothes. He jogs around the neighborhood for a half hour, then comes back to do exercises in the back yard. He’s halfway through his push-ups when Rey pokes her head out of the back door.

 

“What now?” he asks in exasperation, sitting back on his knees to look at her.

 

“Am I bothering you?” she says, stepping fully out onto the porch. “I can leave you alone if-“

 

“What is it?” Kylo repeats.

 

Rey looks sheepish. “I’ve seen you work out and was wondering if you’d help me?”

 

“Help you?”

 

“I want to get in shape,” she says. “I…want to try out for a sports team next year. Soccer.”

 

“Oh,” Kylo replies, a little stunned. Why Rey was coming to him for help was beyond him. He was well aware that he wasn’t very pleasant to be around: moody, blunt, and awkward. Rey must be desperate if she was willing to put up with him.

 

“Again, if I’m bothering you, I can just try to work out in the gym after school.”

 

Kylo pauses for a moment of contemplation, then sighs in defeat. “Come over here. I’ll show you the basics.”

 

He proceeds to show Rey several different exercises: push-ups, sit-ups, planking, squats, lunges, burpees and jumping jacks to start. He drills her to use the proper form, to keep her back straight and feet level with her shoulders. They run through several circuits of the exercises before he decides they’ve both had enough.

 

“If you want better results, you should probably find a gym to join,” he says, stretching out his arms and legs. Rey copies his poses.

 

“I think there’s one a few miles down the road,” she says.

 

Under normal circumstances, Kylo would’ve whole-heartedly rejected helping Rey. If she had come to him for help with math homework, or an English project, he would be less than useless to her. Exercise and sports were something he was good at, though, and it wasn’t like Han or Leia would be of any help to Rey when it came to sports. Maybe if she devoted herself to working out like this, it would take the edge off of her aggression towards her classmates, in which case Kylo wouldn’t have to see as much of Hux. That, or she’d get strong enough to finish them off, much to Hux’s vexation, which Kylo also endorsed.

 

“Can I work out with you from now on?” Rey asks. Kylo notices that the first time he saw her, she’d looked hopeful but guarded from rejection. Her expression now was open and trusting. It felt nice to have someone look at him like that for once.

 

“Three times a week,” Kylo concedes. “If you want to work out more often than that, do it on your own.”

 

Rey seems to accept this answer immediately, probably because it’s more than she thought she’d get. “Okay,” she agrees with suppressed eagerness, following him back into the house.

 

Kylo stalks off to take a shower, then lounges in the guest room for a while. When he returns downstairs, clean and in a change of clothes, he hears a distinct third voice mingling with Han’s and Rey’s in the living room. With a bit of hesitance, Kylo enters the room. Leia is perched on the couch with Rey, a couple of large suitcases sitting at her feet. She looks up when Kylo walks in, an indecipherable expression crossing her face. All three of them go quiet.

 

“Ben,” Leia says, clearing her throat and quickly composing herself. “I need to talk to you, would you mind?” She gestures towards the stairs. Kylo nods, and lets her lead the way to the guest room.

 

 Kylo closes the door behind them, bracing himself for the subsequent discomfort of this conversation. When he faces his mother, she’s sitting on the bed. He chooses to lean against the door, reversing the positions from when Han talked to him alone on the night he’d arrived. Now it had been two weeks, and Leia wasn’t going to pull punches with whatever she needed to say. She was the source of Kylo’s bluntness; she didn’t tap-dance around what needed to be said the way Han did.

 

“It’s good to see you,” she says first and foremost, and it catches Kylo off-guard. Those words shouldn’t hurt this badly, but she’s looking at him with so much longing and _so much_ relief and sincerity that it’s almost unbearable. “I’m glad you came home.”

 

“So much has changed,” Kylo mumbles. He’s struggling to deal with everything that’s different, everything that’s happening now. It’s especially hard to face Leia.

 

“That’s what I want to talk about. Or at least, start talking about.” She looks just as uncomfortable as he feels, which is at least a little reassuring. “How’s Han been?”

 

“Same as I remember him,” Kylo confesses with a shrug. Maybe a little softer than he used to be, but just as difficult to talk to. Kylo still did his best to stay out of his way unless it was absolutely necessary. They hadn’t mentioned their conversation from the first night, and Kylo didn’t know if they ever would, not that he particularly wanted to. “Did he tell you about the latest test results?”

 

“He did.” Leia’s face scrunches up, her eyes glance away from Kylo, at the boxes stacked up against the wall. “That’s why I needed to talk to you. I need to ask some favors.”

 

Kylo cocks his head to the side, his identically dark eyes training on Leia. “What favors?”

 

“I’m doing my best to have my affairs in order so that I can be home permanently to take care of Han, but there are still several meetings and other events I need to get through before that can happen. I need you to be in charge of the house while I’m gone. Look after Han, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. Drive him to doctor’s appointments, make sure he takes his medicine and eats. I’d also appreciate it if you would take care of Rey too. She’s low-maintenance, does her homework without being asked and takes care of chores around the house. All you have to do is make sure she gets to and from school, and maybe cook dinner.” Leia shifts on the edge of the bed, looking guilty. “I wouldn’t ask this much of you if I didn’t have to, but—“

 

“I’ll do it.” Kylo says, nodding as if to convince himself of this.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“Do we have a choice?”

 

Leia is quiet, then seems to study Kylo’s face. “I thought maybe you hadn’t changed at all, over all these years, but maybe you have.”

 

“Maybe,” Kylo replies. “My agreeing to help out isn’t a kindness, it’s a necessity. I’ve made the choice to stay, it’s not like I’m going to sit around and let them starve to death while you’re away.”

 

Leia makes a face that Kylo remembers is a warning for him not to start on his shit. “At least we’re on the same page,” she says flatly, less sure than she was just a minute ago. She eyes Kylo warily as she makes to leave. He lets her walk out of the room, then takes her place on the bed, still warm.


	7. Chapter 7

Leia stays in town for the next two and a half weeks before she’s due for another out of town excursion. She’s very, very busy the entire time, though. Some nights, she doesn’t even come home. Kylo comes to understand why she asked for his help: most of the time, the three are on their own for meals and house maintenance.

 

The first painting is officially underway shortly after Kylo talks to Rey in the garage. He tentatively takes her advice and goes with the blue and purple color scheme. At the very least, it’ll get him out of the rut he’s been in since he arrived in New Mexico. Maybe it will stand out nicely against the other two pieces, which will admittedly probably be back to red and orange. In the very worst case scenario, he’ll discard this canvas and buy a new one.

 

Another week passes. Rey goes to school and doesn’t get into any fights, Han stays in the house mostly, sometimes going to run errands or to the bar to see his friends, and Leia is largely absent. Kylo has a closer eye on his father, trying to keep his promise to Leia. He stays home more than he goes to the café now, either sitting in the living room with his computer or in the garage with the door open. He finds out, during this time, that Han mostly watches documentaries of various historical events and sports matches. Sometimes, Kylo recognizes the teams and halfway pays attention, but most of the time he tunes out the noise and only speaks when he periodically asks Han if he’s hungry.

 

At the one month mark, Han finally shows real signs of his illness. He’s a lot more lethargic, which irritates someone who doesn’t like sitting still for too long. The exhaustion seems to balance it out, so he isn’t a total nightmare to deal with. Kylo starts cooking meals for Han and Rey, and reluctantly drives her to and from school. She talks more and more as the days pass, becoming emboldened by the fact that Kylo hasn’t told her to shut up yet. It surprises Kylo, too, how much he tolerates from her and how much he genuinely enjoys. Rey talks about her friends: Finn is the best, he’s in her grade and also happens to be one of the only other foster kids at school, Poe is a funny sophomore with a learner’s permit, and Rose is another freshman who’s soft-spoken and nerdy, but very sweet nonetheless. It’s encouraging to hear that Rey has a group of friends, it means Kylo doesn’t have to look out for her as much as he thought he’d have to.

 

Rey also talked a lot about traveling to other countries, like Ireland and Peru. She was taking an AP Human Geography class and found it thoroughly interesting. Kylo doesn’t relate to her fascination with different cultures and environments, but he can remember being equally enthusiastic about space. At one point in his life, he’d wanted to be an astronaut. Han was a cargo pilot, so why couldn’t Kylo fly a rocket ship? As he grew up, that thought became less appealing, and then when reality fully sank in it was abandoned altogether. He was left with only a nostalgic fondness for the stars. Rey had more realistic dreams, though, she could probably achieve some of them when she was older.

 

She had maps and pictures of destinations all over her walls. Kylo saw into her bedroom one day while carrying a load of laundry downstairs, the dark grey walls were painted over a light green, and they were covered in various posters. Kylo’s bedroom was coated in posters too, when it was his. A lot of things might have been different, but there were also similarities. And not just in the bedroom, Kylo also noticed the ways in which they were alike. Rey was a tall girl for her age, and she was quite intimidating when she wasn’t smiling. She was aggressive too, which was apparent in the way she fought with any classmates who dared to mess with her. She was also very lonely, evidenced by her incessant pestering of Kylo when they were at home. He’d stopped minding a while ago, but kept up the appearance of annoyance just because he _refused_ to admit that he liked the kid. He especially didn’t want Rey to know, they didn’t need to get attached any more than they already were.

 

 Afternoons are spent doing exercises in the back yard, and three times a week Rey joins him. He’s impressed that she keeps up with him as well as she does, considering this is the first time she’s really dedicated herself to getting in shape. She’s tough and rarely complains, which helps him not get aggravated with her. If Han or Leia notice how much time the two spend together, neither one comments on it. If that’s the case, it’s a smart move. Kylo would absolutely resent it if either of them acknowledged and encouraged him to bond with Rey.

 

The family, if one could call it that, does about as well as they can. Rey, the most well-adjusted of the three of them, does her homework and makes herself helpful around the house. Kylo allows her to help around the kitchen and go to the grocery with him, Han lets her vacuum and sweep the floors. Leia sometimes is there in the mornings and late at night. Their interactions are limited, but she’ll sometimes sit in the living room with Kylo after Han and Rey have gone to bed and ask how things are going. Kylo appreciates that their conversations are strictly about the task at hand and not about deeper things like all the times they’d screamed horrible things at each other, or times when both parents were gone and Kylo was isolated at home for days at a time.

 

In time, the first painting begins to take shape. Kylo is spending much more time than he normally would considering where to put down the colors, what motions to use. It’s strange and atypical for him, but the Snoke exhibit isn’t just any gallery opening, and he needs to do his absolute best work possible. There’s no time to mess up and start over, it needs to be done right the first time. Rey keeps asking to see it, and even Han tries to peek into the garage when he’s walking past, but Kylo refuses to let either of them invade his space more than they already do in every other part of the house. His time spent painting is one of the only times he’s alone, and he needs the solitude in order to devote his entire attention to his work. This is important to him, maybe even just as important as the people in this house.

 

On the final weekend before Leia leaves again, she plans an elaborate dinner for the family. She also invites Chewie, which she doesn’t mention until the night of the dinner. He’s there at seven o’clock sharp nonetheless, and wraps Kylo in a bone-crushing hug when he gets the door open. Chewie is one of those people who doesn’t know how to be gentle. He’s the only member of the family who’s even taller than Kylo, a big burly man with thick shaggy hair and a full beard. He and Han were the kind of best friends where they might as well be related; Kylo grew up calling him “uncle” and didn’t even know they weren’t blood relatives until he was a teen. “He’s _technically_ not your uncle,” Leia had said, “But he _is_ your godfather.”

 

Kylo takes a step back so that he’s no longer within arm’s reach.

 

“ _I didn’t think I’d see you tonight_ ,” Chewie signs once he comes into the front entryway. He’s been deaf for as long as Kylo can remember, apparently he lost his hearing when he got a severe ear infection as a kid. Kylo had grown up bilingual, ASL used just as much around the house as spoken English was.

 

He’s a little rusty after years of only sporadic use, so his reply is slowly and methodically signed back. “ _I’ve only been home a month_.”

 

Chewie only has the chance to nod in response when Han and Rey come to greet him. He turns his attention to Rey, hoisting her off the ground in the embrace he wraps her in. She laughs as he sets her back down. Chewie claps Han on the back in greeting and signs to him, asking how he’s been and what he’s been doing since they last saw one another. Han replies by talking, since Chewie can read lips as well, and Han doesn’t particularly like to sign. They wander off to the living room, but Chewie glances over his shoulder at Kylo and Rey, letting them know that he wants them to follow, or else he’ll come back and drag them along. Kylo slowly trails after them, because he knows from experience that Chewie will make good on his threats.

 

All five of them sit at the dining room table together, which, up until this evening, had been crowded with mechanical parts from Han’s latest project, and Leia’s various folders and stacks of paper. Rey and Kylo had teamed up to clear everything away, fit the table with a clean tablecloth, and set it with plates and silverware. Leia and Han had worked in the kitchen all evening, dividing up which parts of the meal to prepare. Now it was all together, and Kylo had to admit that this was one of the few things he’d missed. Not sitting down with his family--that had always been a shit show--but the food itself. It wasn’t common for them to eat fully home cooked meals together, as both Han and Leia were busy with demanding jobs, so the rare occasions when they made something from scratch it was always amazing.

 

Kylo tried to focus on the food rather than the conversation. The last memory he had of sitting at this table for dinner, Han and Leia had gotten into a small argument that quickly blew up into an all-out screaming match within minutes, and when they were finished fighting with each other, they turned their attention to Kylo. Why wasn’t he graduating with the “distinguished” degree plan he’d originally started with? His grades had really fallen this last semester, and he wasn’t showing improvement in the last stretch before graduation. What was going on with him? What was _wrong_ with him? Did he even care about his future? Was he disappointing his parents on purpose? That’s what Han and Leia did when they were stressed with their jobs and each other, they channeled their worry over Kylo into anger, and rained down on him with hundreds of questions, interrogating him about his failures and shortcomings. It was the only way they knew how to communicate their concern.

 

For now, Han was happy to chat with Chewie, and Rey was enthralled with their conversation. She interjected with questions to both Chewie and Han, as she apparently wasn’t very good at ASL. She signed a little, but it was obvious that she wasn’t fluent yet. Neither of them minded, because she was putting in the effort at least. Leia seemed content to just watch everyone talk and eat, occasionally commenting or throwing in her own opinion. Nobody seemed to care that Kylo wasn’t talking, which he was grateful for.

 

Eventually though, Chewie turned to Kylo, signing “ _So, what are you doing these days_?” Everyone was suddenly watching him curiously, because Kylo hadn’t talked about himself much at all since he got here.

 

Kylo sets down his fork and replies, “ _I joined the marines after high school. Served for four years, then became an artist. I live in New York city_.”

 

Chewie nods, taking in the information. He and Han are both veterans as well, they spent their twenties in the air force, then became cargo pilots afterwards. It was one of the reasons Kylo felt motivated to serve, and one of the common threads he shared with Hux. That was one of the things they understood about each other, having military men for fathers.

 

“ _Can I see your art sometime_?”

 

Kylo feels embarrassed, both pleased and displeased to have everyone’s attention on him. “ _Maybe, I have some photos on my phone_.” It’s all he can really offer, since his studio is miles and miles away. He’s really starting to miss it.

 

Chewie reaches out his hand from across the table, Rey looking excited from her seat beside him. Kylo digs out his phone from his pants pocket, then scrolls though his camera roll until he finds his album of finished paintings. He hesitantly hands it over, and Chewie looks through each photo with Rey peering over his arm at the screen. Kylo sits back in his chair, his shoulders tensed. Han takes the phone when Chewie is done, and then hands it to Leia. Kylo tries not to let his stress show on his face as he watches each of their faces.

 

“Those are _amazing_ ,” Rey says in awe, smiling. “I didn’t know you were that good. You should teach me to paint sometime.”

 

“Those are something,” Han says, and he sounds a little surprised. “I never even knew you had an artistic side.”

 

Leia hands back his phone. “I prefer the cooler colors, but those _are_ beautiful, Ben.”

 

Kylo pockets his phone and awkwardly returns to eating without much comment. He isn’t good at taking compliments, especially ones from his family. Han has never really seen art as a career path worth pursuing, but he seems to be genuinely impressed at least. The rest of their responses are encouraging, even if Leia’s praise feels a little stale. Maybe he’s just being oversensitive.

 

Dinner continues on in mostly-silence. Kylo and Rey leave Leia, Han and Chewie to talk at the dining table, and escape to the kitchen to begin washing the dishes. Kylo is just relieved that it didn’t turn into a family-style brawl, even if it had been a little uncomfortable anyway.

 

Leia leaves that following Monday. Rey is especially sad to see her go, considering the most actual conversation she gets is from Leia. Han kisses her goodbye and assures her that he’ll be fine while she’s gone.

 

“The kids are competent enough to keep me alive a while longer,” he says with a smirk. Leia looks at least a little more confident than she had been when she arrived. She’d seen firsthand that Kylo was doing his part, and Rey was helping out as well. With combined efforts, they would all survive until Leia’s return. She squeezes Kylo’s hand on her way out the door, and he watches her disappear into a black SUV.

 

Phasma calls him later that day, and she isn’t happy. Not even _close_.

 

“What do you mean that you’re staying in Santa Fe until January?”

 

“Just what I said in the email,” Kylo replies, exasperated. He feels his body shift from a general sense of calm, to guilt. Being chewed out over things he didn’t care about was one thing, it could be amusing even, but when it was something he cared _a lot_ about, it was like a stab in the chest. Every word Phasma growled out was just twisting the blade.

 

“You’re behind schedule as is, and on top of that you’re away from your studio. Are you sure you have the means to create strong pieces? You know that Snoke will not accept lackluster paintings into his gallery.”

 

Anxiety courses through Kylo, settling in the back of his neck and shoulders. He clenches his teeth. “Yes, I know. I have all the supplies I need and the first piece is coming along just as well as if I were home. I plan on mailing all three finished paintings there by the deadline. And I’ll be there for the exhibition.”

 

“You’d better be. This can make or break your reputation, and your career. Don’t take it lightly.” She hangs up with that simple threat, leaving Kylo standing in the guest room. He proceeds to nearly pace a hole through the floor, wringing his hands as he goes. His parents always channeled their emotions into something. Actions, motivation. Kylo channeled his into his body: he paced, threw things, punched through walls, kicked tables over. His boots stomped out a heavy rhythm on the wooden floor. Then he stopped, and headed out the door, down the stairs, and straight into the garage.

 

Looking at the partially-finished painting didn’t settle the nausea in Kylo’s stomach. He stared at it for ten minutes, then finally approached it with his palette and tried to start placing new brushstrokes. Maybe Phasma is right. He’s let himself get distracted. His family brought him here to help them through a hard time, but it wouldn’t change anything in the end. Once the dust cleared, Leia still won’t know him any better, and Han will be buried and gone. Kylo shouldn’t lose his way and let his career suffer just because the people who hurt him aren’t hurting him _right now_. It’s probably just for the fact that they all need something from him, anyway. If they had any other way to make it through this, they wouldn’t have even bothered calling him. He’d be in New York, in his studio, finishing a painting with his good paints. Red and orange, not blue and purple. Colors that came from his own feelings, not colors that reminded him of glittery letters and brown hair pulled into a bun.

 

Kylo proceeds to ignore his family as much as he possibly can. He does the bare minimum. He starts exercising early in the mornings so he can tell Rey to do it by herself in the afternoons. He cooks meals in advance and lets Han and Rey heat them up later, after he’s already eaten. He locks himself in the garage and either stares at the painting or actually makes an attempt to finish it. Han and Rey don’t fail to notice the way Kylo has pulled himself back. He hears them talk about it late one night when they think he’s still busy painting.

 

“Don’t worry too much about Ben,” Han says. It sounds both dismissive and reassuring. “He can be… _difficult_. He shuts down sometimes, keeps everyone at a distance. I think it’s just how he deals with himself. Give him time, and space.”

 

“Will it pass soon?” Rey asks, uneasy. Kylo almost feels guilty for making her worry, but he can’t allow himself feel that strongly about her, he can’t acknowledge that he’s created any kind of meaningful bond with Rey. He’s leaving in January, and he’s not looking back.

 

“Maybe,” Han sighs. “I don’t know for sure. He could go for weeks like this when he was a kid. Wouldn’t speak a word to Leia or me, isolated himself in his room. He let himself get as lonely as he could stand, I guess, and then he’d give up for a while.”

 

Rey falls silent. Kylo walks away from the spot where he’d been eavesdropping and kicks the garage shut, alerting the pair that he had stopped painting for the night. Kylo walks past them and goes upstairs without as much as a glance in their direction. He lays across the bed in the guest room, and stares up at the ceiling.

 

Which way was really right, in the end? Was he losing himself because he was giving in to his family’s demands of him, or was it because he was planning to turn his back on them again?

 

Kylo didn’t know the answer. He thought about it all night and still didn’t know by the time the sun had risen.


	8. Chapter 8

All of Kylo’s suffering resulted only in constant, mind-numbing exhaustion. Instead of sticking to one plan of action over another, he tried instead to play both parts to see which one would pan out: he did his part to help his family during the day in the desperate hopes that it would actually bring about some kind of significant change, and at night he painted and agonized over his looming deadline. The only real benefit to this was that it really _was_ mind-numbing; Kylo couldn’t muster up the mental wherewithal to be stressed out for very long at a time.

 

Han was the one to start banishing Kylo from the house every couple of days. “You need to get some air before you get cabin fever, kid.” _Kid_ being the closest thing Han ever got to a term of endearment when it came to Kylo or Rey; it was a sign that he really was concerned with his wellbeing. Han said it firmly, but it was probably the tiredness in his expression that persuaded Kylo to obey. He’d tried to protest at first, but soon realized that it was futile. Kylo started turning back up at the café, as he really didn’t have any other place to be. The soft buzz of quiet conversations and the scent of coffee was a comfort to Kylo’s constant barrage of thoughts, crashing over him like relentless, angry ocean waves until he could barely function.

 

“You look like death warmed over,” came the remark from a familiar voice. Kylo jerked his head up from his computer screen and glared halfheartedly at Hux. His bloodshot eyes were too hooded to properly convey anger or malice. Hux seemed completely unaffected by this look, and took a seat across from Kylo. He didn’t have to look around to know that all the other tables were taken. Hux had so easily changed his tune from inconvenienced to entitled when it came to stealing a chair.

 

“So, what is going on in that mess you call a head?” Hux asks as he sets his bag in the empty seat beside him. He also sets down a plate of scones and a large cup of tea, obviously intending to stay for a while. A sleek black laptop joined Kylo’s on the table as well, it was newer and nicer of course. Probably had never been dropped. The words sound rude and intrusive, but truth be told that’s just how their relationship dynamic worked. Hux would choke on his own tongue before he actually claimed to show any concern for Kylo, so he prodded him with insensitive questions instead.

 

“Tired,” Kylo grumbled. That was a major understatement. For example, Kylo had been reading the same email for the last thirty minutes and still didn’t have a clue what it said. His eyes ran carefully over each line of text, but no matter how hard he tried to concentrate, he failed to grasp their meaning. This was just one instance of Kylo’s self-destructive tendencies, but he’d be damned if he’d ever deny himself. He was relentless in every single part of his life, including torturing himself.

 

“I gathered as much,” Hux replied, taking the lid off to stir his tea. He paused for a moment, seeming to choose his next words. “Thing’s at home not going well?” His tone of voice is just incrementally less harsh, and it’s easy to overlook if you’re not paying attention. His hands have stilled.

 

“Yes.” Kylo doesn’t meet Hux’s steady gaze.

 

“You can’t do everything yourself, you know. You’ll crash and burn eventually.” It’s ridiculous that other adults keep needing to tell Kylo this, but he’s never been good at taking this particular advice. He’s always needed someone who can reign him in, or else he’ll keep going at a hundred miles per hour until he eventually crashes. He did it all the time in high school, running himself ragged. Back then he had Hux, then after high school he had the strict rules of the marines, and now Phasma had taken to keeping him in check.

 

Kylo is quiet, so Hux presses on, apparently in the mood to be helpful. “Your family won’t benefit from your help if everything you do is half-assed. You’re also probably making them feel unnecessarily guilty for working this hard.”

 

“Not like anyone will help if I don’t,” Kylo mumbles, trying and failing to start reading the email again.

 

“Maybe there isn’t as much of a pressing urge to get everything done as your twisted mind seems to think,” Hux replies, taking a sip off his tea. “You probably have roughly eight hours somewhere in there to sleep.”

 

Kylo just makes a noncommittal grunt. He knows this is pointless. Counterproductive, even. He can’t help but feel that this is the only balance he can manage, though, without letting either the Snoke exhibit or his duties to Han and Rey take precedence over the other. Always taking things to extremes. At what point can he call it a talent?

 

“Is there something in New York you need to do, or something?”

 

It’s almost disturbing how attuned Hux is to Kylo’s inner workings. He’s had plenty of practice from high school, the way the two of them always seemed drawn together in times of crisis. Kylo can remember horrible nights when he’d show up at the library where he knew Hux would be, and for some odd reason Hux would always take him aside to a study room to talk about whatever Han had said or the way Leia was ignoring Kylo’s existence again. Sometimes he’d just talk about whatever topics popped into his head, and Kylo would sit quietly and listen until a rant about AP Government drowned out his own miserable thoughts.

 

He also remembered the far less common instances when Hux would call him up late at night and he’d sneak out his bedroom window and walk to the park with him, talking about anything _but_ Hux’s home life. Sometimes Kylo even managed to make Hux smile with a dark joke or a particularly smart comeback to something he’d said. They sat on an old bench with a bronze plaque dedicating it to some man’s dead wife who’d sat there and fed the pigeons, and talked for hours about absolutely nothing. Hux always looked reluctant to leave when two or three AM had rolled around, but the next day at school he acted like nothing had happened, and Kylo tried to do the same. Han always gave Kylo a suspicious look on those mornings, because he always knew when Kylo was coming and going, but he’d never commented on it no matter how many times it happened.

 

“I have an exhibition coming up at the end of January. A show.” Kylo shuts his laptop and sits back in his chair. There’s no point in trying to respond to emails when your brain feels like it’s saturated in battery acid. “I have to finish three paintings before then, and get them mailed to New York.”

 

“That explains it,” Hux replies casually. He picks up one of the scones, turning it over and over in his hand. “You’re fixated on the paintings, so you’re devoting just as much of yourself to them as you are to your family. You _really_ need to work on your ability to balance your life.” He takes a bite of the scone, looking at Kylo with distaste. It’s a combination of annoyance and slight disappointment, like Kylo can do better. He probably can.

 

“I know.” Kylo’s sigh seems to deflate his posture until he slouched. He feels a bit like a child being scolded, but for some reason he craves it. Any show of attention or concern is welcomed, even when it’s from Hux, who barely tolerates him.

 

“Instead of painting tonight, try sleeping instead,” he offers, finally opening his laptop and thus creating a barrier between their faces. Kylo can tell that Hux has disengaged from the conversation, so he takes a deep breath and tries to read the email one more time.

 

* * *

 

 

As it turned out, Hux’s advice actually made quite a difference. The world didn’t feel like it was going to implode once Kylo got a decent amount of sleep. When he came downstairs the next morning, Han was already making breakfast. He didn’t turn around when Kylo walked into the kitchen, but he heard the approaching footsteps. “I’m making chocolate pancakes,” he says, and Kylo is immediately suspicious. Chocolate chip pancakes were Kylo’s and Leia’s favorite, and Han only made them on special occasions: birthdays, apologies, or when he was asking for a favor. It definitely wasn’t Kylo’s birthday.

 

“What do you want?” he asks, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table. He sits and watches Han’s back as he flips the pancake onto a plate. His posture straightens up ever-so-slightly, but that’s his only tell--Han has always been good under pressure. It’s how he’s survived a marriage with Leia without being eaten alive.

 

“Do I have to have a reason to make my son pancakes?” Han walks over to the table and sets down a tall stack of them in front of Kylo, spatula still in hand. He goes over to the fridge and retrieves all the toppings Kylo could possibly want, then returns to the stove.

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what you said the last time you made me these.” Kylo looks down at the pancakes, studying them. He picks up a fork and starts stabbing at them, shoving the first bite into his mouth. Yep, just as good as he remembers. The last time Han made these was because he had to tell Kylo that he wouldn’t be home for his birthday for the second year in a row.

 

Han sighs. “Look, normally Leia is here for these sorts of things, but she’s not. I would go, but I have another doctor’s appointment today…”

 

Kylo knows that Han can feel his eyes boring into the back of his head. “What sort of thing?”

 

“Rey has a thing today. A school thing. Someone needs to go to it, and I can’t. I’ve tried rescheduling, but this is the only time the doc can fit me in for the next week and a half.”

 

“What is it?”

 

Han turns back around and grabs a piece of paper off the nearby counter, handing it over to Kylo’s outstretched hand. Upon inspection, it was a poster for an orchestra recital, which would be in the auditorium at two. Rey had mentioned to Kylo she played the violin in passing during one of her morning car ride rambles, but hadn’t said anything about a recital. Kylo remembers that he wouldn’t have been paying attention lately if she had, and found himself feeling a little guilty.

 

“She’s already said it’s not a big deal if no one comes, but I know it’d make her happy if you showed up.”

 

Kylo nods slowly, then sets the paper aside and finishes his pancakes. He gets up and walks to the sink to wash his plate when he asks, “do you need a ride to the doctor’s?”

 

Han pauses for a moment, mulling it over. “Yeah, actually. That’d probably be better than driving myself.” Kylo is surprised that Han would so easily admit to needing help, considering how stubborn he is. “The appointment is at one thirty.”

 

“I’ll pick you up at one,” Kylo replies. He dries off his plate and stacks it in the cabinet before shuffling out of the kitchen. On the stairs he passes Rey and grumbles, “be ready in fifteen.” She nods in an affirmative, then heads downstairs. He can hear her cheer over the chocolate chip pancakes from the kitchen.

 

Kylo succeeds in getting Rey to school on time. Just as Han had predicted, she seemed to be excited to learn that Kylo was going to come to the recital. She said that it wasn’t like a concert or anything, just a small group of kids. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Kylo doubted her casual remarks when he saw her wave over her shoulder at him with a grin plastered to her face before she disappeared into the building.

 

Getting Han to the appointment wasn’t too much of a challenge, despite some afternoon traffic and passenger seat driving. Kylo managed not to succumb to road rage nor patricide. They sat in silence in a cramped waiting room filled with old people. It smelled strongly of cleaning products, and the magazine rack was piled with AARP pamphlets and outdated reader’s digests. Kylo made sure that Han actually got in to see his doctor before he left to drive back to Rey’s school.

 

It was just as creepy to be back here a second time as it had been the first. Kylo hunched his shoulders as he made his way to the auditorium, but it didn’t make him any less tall and out of place. He took a seat in the back of the darkened room, unable to relax his posture. Everything about this place set Kylo on edge, filled with bad memories of even worse experiences. The sound of the group tuning their instruments rang out through the auditorium, bring his focus back to the present. Kylo could see Rey from where he sat, dressed in a black polo and jeans, sharing a stand with a much smaller girl with dark hair.

 

The recital really wasn’t like a concert. The students played a few ensembles, and then one by one they played a solo piece. Hearing Rey play the violin only made Kylo remember just how fucking good Hux had been. As concert master, he was the consistently best violinist in the orchestra, and he never let anyone forget it. Any time there was a need for some string players, whether it was just at a school function or a full blown concert, he always had at least one solo, and he absolutely nailed it every time. It made Kylo wonder why Hux never pursued music after graduating high school. Then again, it seemed to be one of the few extracurricular activities that he genuinely enjoyed, and not just another accomplishment to show off to his father. It just had the added bonus of looking good on a college resume.

 

Rey saw him in the back as the students began disassembling their music stands and packing away their instruments. She beamed at him and waved, then leaned over to the shorter girl and said something that caused her to suddenly smile and wave as well. Kylo only nodded in acknowledgement, then left the auditorium before the rest of the audience caught up and flooded past him. He was sure Rey would talk about it on the ride home, so there was no real point in trying to approach the stage. Better to leave while the halls were still empty.

 

On the way out the doors, Kylo caught sight of none other than Hux, who had apparently been leaning on the doorframe to listen. He met Kylo’s eyes, and fell into step with him as he walked out the auditorium doors and into the hall.

 

“I’ve been thinking,” Hux begins.

 

“When aren’t you?” Kylo replies dryly, glancing at the other man as they walk.

 

Hux ignores the comment. “I have a proposition for you.”

 

“What would that be?” Kylo was getting tired of hearing about people’s bargains and plans today, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Hux would tell him about it whether he wanted to hear it or not.

 

“Our front hall is being remodeled. The old mural had been taken down, because it’s horribly outdated and was always kind of ugly. At any rate, we need to commission someone to paint the new concept for the mural. I was wondering if you were interested.”

 

“You’ve never even seen my work,” Kylo says dismissively. “You have no idea if I’m a good painter or not.”

 

“On the contrary,” Hux fires back, “I know you, and I know that anything you enjoy doing you will do well. It’s the part where you do everything else with absolutely no effort put into it that bothers me. If you’re interested, you’ll email me a digital portfolio of your work, just like anyone else would. I’ll look over it, and if I approve then I’ll give you everything you’ll need and you can start working immediately.”

 

“Weren’t you the one who said I needed to do less work, not more? Or did I hear that entire conversation wrong?”

 

“Think of this as a break from your raving lunatic family, and a better use of your free time than sitting at the café for hours. You’d be paid for your time, of course.”

 

Kylo stops when they get close to the front doors. The walls around them have been painted over white, a completely blank canvas. “You must be desperate if you’re asking me.”

 

“On the contrary. I just know when to set aside my personal opinions of you when it comes to benefitting from your strengths.”

 

Kylo frowned. “Should I be flattered?”

 

“You don’t have to be _anything_ ,” Hux replies, pulling a card out of his pocket and handing it over to Kylo. “This is all my contact information. Email, office phone number, and personal cell phone number. Let me know if you change your mind, I need someone to start this mural within the next week or so.”

 

With that, Hux turns and disappears into the administrators’ office. Kylo stands there a moment longer with the card still clutched in his hand.


	9. Chapter 9

When the first painting was finally completed, Kylo sat in the garage alone and studied it. The purples and blues swirled and melted into each other, stripes of yellow cutting through like falling stars. From any angle it was captivating and well-balanced. Kylo gently set the canvas down on newspaper spread out on Han’s old workbench, then placed the second one up on the easel. This palette would be closer to what he was used to, he’d already decided. It would contrast nicely with the other one, hot versus cold. Kylo didn’t have names for each one, nor did he have a title for the trio. The theme for Snoke’s exhibition was “connections”, purposely vague in order to give the artists as much creative freedom as possible. It would be a connection to anything: spirituality, nature, other people, or places. Kylo was still deliberating, but he’d decided he’d worry about names after the paintings were finished.

 

Phasma’s emails were waiting for him every morning, stern and chastising, but perhaps not as harsh as her last phone call had been. Kylo had explained in further detail about how Han’s condition was deteriorating, even though he loathed to talk about it, and Phasma had even apologized curtly for her earlier words. “ _I just want you to succeed,_ ” her email response had read. “ _You have a very promising career ahead of you, even if you’re an unrepentant ass_.”

 

Leia returned the next week, looking tired and glad to be home. This time around she seemed to have more down time to spend with Rey and Han, and even Kylo when he made himself available. He tried to stay on the fringe of it all, but every once in a while she would catch his eye and pull him into the kitchen to help her with something.

 

“Ben, are you busy?” she asks one afternoon, poking her head into the living room. Kylo sighs and closes his laptop.

 

“No,” he says in a way that indicates he’s willing to help with whatever her request is but will not be particularly happy about it.

 

“Let me borrow your long arms for a minute,” she says before turning around and heading back towards the master bedroom. Kylo slides his laptop off his legs and onto the couch before slinking off after her.

 

Han and Leia’s bedroom is impressively large. The walls have been repainted since Kylo has seen it last, but most of the furniture and knick-knacks were the same as he remembered from childhood, even an old chest of drawers that he used to pull out and climb on like a step ladder. One time he’d almost made it tip over and fall on top of him, but Han had quickly steadied it and taken Kylo off with a firm warning to never do it again.

 

“I’m going through old things in the closet while Han isn’t here to tell me we need to keep them all,” Leia explains. Han is currently out running errands around town with Chewie, something he doesn’t get to do very often these days. The house was quiet without the sound of the TV carrying into all the rooms. They both go into the closet, a walk-in that smells just faintly of dust. Leia points up at the very top shelf, which is lined with old boxes. Kylo reaches up and grabs a couple without difficulty, then hands them down to her. For the next few minutes they quietly work this way, Kylo pulling down boxes and Leia taking them and setting them aside for inspection. Eventually, all the boxes are laid out on the bed. Kylo is about to slip out of the room when Leia’s voice stops him.

 

“This will go faster if I have an extra set of hands,” she says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Kylo huffs and sits across from her on the other side. They each grab a box and start rifling through their contents.

 

Most of the stuff is wedding gifts that were never used, like a crystal candelabra and a fancy gravy boat. Some of it is old photographs in small ornamental picture frames. One of those is of a young Leia and her twin brother Luke, Kylo’s uncle. He feels his jaw clench and shoulders tense at the memory of his last encounter with Luke, and he quickly set the photo aside face-down. Occasionally, Leia would show him something, a random paperweight that he was obsessed with as a child for whatever reason, a mother’s day card she’d saved, a particularly disgusting little box of filled with his baby teeth.

 

“Grab a garbage bag,” she says after a while, eyeing the growing pile of objects they were going to throw away. Kylo slid off the bed and made his way to the kitchen.

 

“There you are,” Rey said from her place at the table, looking up from what looked like her homework. “I was wondering if everyone had left the house.” She says it good naturedly, but Kylo can remember times where that really was the case for him.

 

“I’m helping her sort through boxes in the room,” he explains, gesturing over his shoulder in the general direction of Leia’s bedroom. He’d been actively avoiding using ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ in reference to his parents, but calling them by their first names sounds equally wrong, so he awkwardly tiptoed around using proper nouns at all.

 

“Find anything interesting?” Rey asks, getting up and going over to the fridge for a bottle of water. Kylo shrugs and grunts, grabbing a garbage bag from a drawer before turning to shuffle back out of the room.

 

When he returns, Leia is sitting amidst stacks of miscellaneous junk with a scrapbook in her lap. Kylo shakes the bag open and holds it out to Leia, who sets the scrapbook aside for a moment and starts tossing things from the discard pile into it. Eventually, Rey comes in and finds a place on the bed. The three of them work through the chaos that’s consumed every inch of bedspread, all the random junk that Han found at garage sales and the keepsakes from vacations. Rey eventually scoots closer to Leia and they look through photo albums, abandoning their steady pace of throwing things away. Kylo finally sets down the small box with a broken latch that he’d been looking at and joined the other side of Leia to look at the pictures too.

 

“Here’s Ben’s first Christmas,” Leia says warmly, pointing at a chubby baby sitting in the middle of various brightly-colored presents.

 

“Look at that goofy smile,” Rey says fondly, pointing at his round cheeks. Kylo feels his face get warm.

 

“And here’s our vacation up the coast,” she says, pointing to another picture. Han and Leia are much younger there, standing next to a California road sign with a ten year old Kylo standing between them. He’s smiling a lopsided smile, the same but much rarer one he still has.

 

“Ben’s first boy scout meeting.” It’s starting to feel like Leia is only pointing out embarrassing photos. This one is of a nine year old Kylo, turned around in his chair and looking into the camera with a mischievous smile, sticking his tongue out between his teeth. Rey smiles at each one as Leia keeps turning the pages. She passes through snapshots of Ben’s childhood, all the birthdays and holidays.

 

“What’s in this one?” Rey asks, reaching for another one when they get to the end of the first album. She picks up a dark purple one that’s dated much more recently.

 

“Oh, this one is Ben’s high school years,” Leia says, running her fingers over the cover. Kylo feels apprehension over looking at those, but Rey is too far away for him to take the book from her before she can open it. These pictures are less happy, capturing Kylo in candid shots rather than him hamming it up for the camera. There are several of him in his gi from either karate or judo, breaking wooden boards and pinning opponents down. They’re good shots, Leia has steady hands and a good eye.

 

A couple ones are of Kylo at high school functions, of him at senior homecoming, the only dance he ever went to. That night had been very underwhelming; the girl he took wouldn’t shut the fuck up about how tall he was and how many hours she’d sat and gotten her nails done. Didn’t he think her dress was pretty? Didn’t he want to go get her some punch? Didn’t he want to dance? He’d wanted to _strangle_ her by the end of the evening, especially when her friends went on and on about how outrageous it was that she’d gone with him, he was a notorious bad boy after all. It was _crazy_ for such a nice girl to go out with the guy who threw his desk chair off the second floor balcony. They all laughed. Kylo walked out of the dance after that, and word got around school that he was an asshole of massive proportions, that no self-respecting girl should _ever_ go on a date with him. He’d scandalized his poor date for all of a week, at which point she’d forgotten and moved on. It was all the same to Kylo anyway, he’d quickly realized thereafter that he truly had no interest in girls, even when they _weren’t_ relentlessly obnoxious.

 

Rey is flipping past more pages when Kylo’s hand reaches out to stop on one particular photo. He cranes his neck to get a proper look at it. It’s of Kylo and Hux in the living room together. Hux is sitting on the floor, poring over whatever project they’re working on. He looks absolutely _engrossed_ in the pages laid out around him. Kylo is taking up the entire couch, his feet dangling off one end and his head resting on the other, holding up a page over his face to read. His eyes are trained on the paper, but his mouth is twisted just enough to indicate that he was probably giving Hux some smartass remark.

 

“When did you take this?” he asks Leia.

 

“Is that Headmaster Hux?” Rey exclaims at the same time, holding the album closer to inspect the photo.

 

“It was the last day of Christmas break. Your junior year, I think,” Leia responds thoughtfully. “The two of you were finishing a school project that was due the next week.”

 

“Okay, _why_ did you, then?”

 

“That boy was over at the house more than anyone else you hung out with at school, so thought I’d better take a photograph to remember him by before you finally scared him off.” Leia’s eyes glint playfully, her voice teasing. Kylo rolled his eyes at her. Hux didn’t scare.

 

“I can’t believe the two of you were _friends_ ,” Rey says in shock.

 

“We weren’t. We took the same classes and got shoved together for projects.” Kylo shifts away from Rey and Leia and starts sorting through the last box to go. Rey watches him for a moment before closing the album and reaching for a different one. She and Leia talk about Kylo’s grandparents, Padme and Anakin. They also talk about Luke, and how much of a fiasco Han and Leia’s wedding had been. Kylo tunes them out.

 

By the time the boxes have been sorted and the bags have been hauled to the garbage bin outside, Kylo is desperate for solitude. Before he can head upstairs to barricade himself in the guest room, Leia grabs him by the arm.

 

“Hey, I’m going to a community leaders’ banquet later tonight. You should come with me.” Kylo gives her a look that asks ‘ _have you met me?’_

 

“Think about it, okay? It’s not until seven.” She pats his arm and walks off, leaving Kylo to contemplate whether or not he would go.

 

As it turned out, when presented with the option of sitting around in the living room while Han and Chewie drank, and spending the night socializing, Kylo was split. They were equally awful options. When the time came, he put on his most acceptable, least disheveled clothes and at least tried to tame his hair before joining Leia downstairs and driving them to the fancy ballroom where the banquet would be held.

 

“Don’t do that thing you always do,” Kylo warns as he cuts the engine.

 

“What thing would that be?” Leia raises an eyebrow at him, ready to cut him down the moment he picks a fight.

 

“The one where we’re about to leave and you suddenly reunite with a long lost friend and talk for another hour. It drives me nuts.” Kylo meets her gaze steadily.

 

“Alright, fine. Deal.” Leia holds up her hands in surrender and they exit the car together. As they walk in, Kylo presses the car keys into Leia’s hand so she can store them in her purse.

 

The banquet is relatively quiet, but it’s also wall-to-wall people. Kylo doesn’t recognize a single one here. He grabs a glass of champagne and keeps close to Leia as she works the room. She’s the governor, of course everyone wants to talk. Kylo can’t keep track of all the people that introduce themselves to him, nor all the hands thrust at him to shake. Spiritual leaders, board members, the chief of police, the chief of surgery. It’s overwhelming, having to appear pleased and engaged in what these people are saying. Leia seems to be doing fine on her own, genuinely enjoying herself. Eventually, Kylo slips away under the pretense of hunting down some h’orderves. His height renders him incapable of people noticing and approaching him, though, so he’s never alone for long.

 

Ironically, Kylo ends up bumping into a waiter with a tray of crab puffs. He eats an inappropriate amount of them before spotting an unmistakable head of red hair. _Of course_. Why wouldn’t Hux be here, schmoozing every important person in the city? That sounded exactly like a thrilling Saturday night for someone like him. Kylo, for lack of anything—literally _anything_ —better to do, begins following Hux around the ballroom. He watches him stop to shake hands and smiling an utterly charming smile, even _laughing_ sometimes. It’s all so convincing to the untrained eye, but Kylo knows better.

 

When a group of people leave him to go small-talk someone else, Kylo sidles up to Hux, making him jump slightly when he says, “Should’ve guessed you’d be here.”

 

“Someone should put a bloody bell on you,” Hux says, straightening out his already-straight tie. “Are you here with the governor?”

 

“Obviously,” Kylo says with an eyebrow raised. “I wouldn’t have come here on my own.” Not mentioning he wouldn’t have been invited in the first place. This high society shit wasn’t his cup of tea.

 

“Alcohol makes you an even bigger asshole than usual,” Hux remarks, eyeing the empty glass in Kylo’s hand as he trades it for a full one with a passing waiter. “How many is that?”

 

“Not enough,” Kylo replies, taking a long sip. He usually avoided drinking, as he’d gone overboard his senior year of high school and it hadn’t ended well for anyone involved. However, in this situation it seemed to actually calm his frazzled nerves, so he welcomed free expensive champagne. It also had the added benefit of making annoying Hux much more appealing than it would normally be, a means to entertain him for the untold hours Leia was planning to spend here.

 

“Pace yourself, you don’t want to give your mother a scandal, do you?” Hux says in warning, but he almost seems entertained by Kylo’s change of disposition. Every time they’d seen each other, Kylo had been some mixture of tired and out-of-it. This livelier, almost playful Kylo was one that rarely made an appearance.

 

Kylo is dismissive. “I’m not even close to the danger point yet.”

 

“Suit yourself.”

 

“So, are you having fun kissing all these asses?”

 

“A fucking _ball_ , thanks for asking.” Hux pauses to take a drink from his own champagne, eyes moving up and down Kylo’s body. “By the way, what in the hell are you wearing? Maybe I spoke too soon about your skill as an artist, your career can’t be going very well if you’ve shown up to a formal event dressed like a homeless man attending a funeral.”

 

“As if you have any room to judge, your hair has so much gel in it that it would break apart if it touched it.”

 

“At least I put some amount of effort into mine. Yours is a black windswept disaster.”

 

“And your nails are obviously manicured,” Kylo notes, inspecting the hand holding onto Hux’s glass.

 

Hux looks like he’s caught right between offended and amused. “What next? Are you going to ask me to take a turn around the room insulting all the guests like a couple of juveniles?”

 

Kylo smiles darkly at that suggestion and offers his elbow, as if Hux would ever actually take it. Instead, he shoves Kylo in the shoulder while rolling his eyes, and they start walking leisurely along the perimeter of the room. Occasionally, Kylo will point someone out, and the pair make utterly uncouth comments, so quietly that only they can hear what the other says. One particular observation Kylo makes about the way a man by the table of refreshments is blotting the sweat off his face makes Hux sputter while he takes a drink from his own champagne glass. Occasionally, a couple of well-meaning guests will approach them, interrupting the otherwise diverting conversation Kylo is having. Every time it happens, he sees a flip switch, and Hux goes from his usual uptight, sarcastic self to a bland, charming imposter. It made Kylo’s skin crawl for some reason.

 

“Do you want to get out of here?” he finds himself asking when they’re alone again. Hux narrows his eyes and raises a brow, and then Kylo realizes his words and shakes his head. “Not like _that_. Do you want to leave this place for a while? I need some air.”

 

Hux searches Kylo’s face for something, then looks around them at the other guests. “Didn’t you come here with your mother?”

 

“She has the keys to the car,” Kylo shrugs. It wasn’t like he was even in the condition to be driving anymore. Besides, they’d probably get on each other’s nerves long before the banquet ended and return without anyone so much as noticing their absence.

 

Hux finishes off his drink and sets it down on the nearest surface, a table by some faux plants. “Why the hell not,” he concedes. It might be the buzz of champagne clouding Kylo’s brain, but Hux looks tired. Maybe putting on a performance for all these people has drained him after all.

 

They walk right out the front doors, unnoticed, then cut through the parking lot to get to the street. It’s much quieter here, despite the fact that it’s a Saturday night. Kylo walks slowly and takes in the buildings, relishing in the silence between them. Right now, there isn’t any expectation for them to socialize. It’s nice, almost.

 

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” Hux says, looking far less enthused by their surroundings as Kylo is. Kylo doesn’t know to what exactly he’s referring, but he doesn’t ask, instead humming in agreement. It has been a while. All of it.

 

“I always liked Santa Fe at night,” Kylo says offhandedly, still looking out at the various landmarks they pass, all shrouded in darkness. Glittering streetlamps and faraway neon signs are the only light to see by. At night, the city wasn’t so blazing hot, and everything gained an air of mystery to it, as if the wide expanse of blackness held all the possibilities of the world. It matched Kylo too; the night was the same as him, dark and quiet and lonely.

 

He looked up at the stars then, ever amazed by how visible they were here. In New York, you couldn’t even hope for a glimmer when you looked at the sky. Hux followed his gaze and sighed. “Are we really out here stargazing?” He doesn’t sound particularly disgruntled about it. If he’s learned anything about Kylo, it’s that he’s bizarre. Stargazing is the least of his aberrant behavior.

 

“If you’ve got someplace to be, by all means go away,” Kylo replies, and starts walking again. Hux follows without missing a step.

 

They pass the public library, and Hux snorts. “I remember when you’d show up on my AP study nights and I’d have to talk you off the ledge for hours.”

 

“I didn’t know it was so much of an inconvenience to you.”

 

“ _Of course_ you did, I’m sure that was part of why you did it. I also know that it was because you were desperate, so I don’t hold anything against you for it.” Hux pauses. “Sometimes it was interesting to hear you talk. I could’ve written an amazing psychology paper about you.”

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t.”

 

“Even I have some morals,” Hux replies, in a way that says ‘ _don’t think so little of me_ ’.  “Take it as a sign of my appreciation for how you handled it when I occasionally went off the rails.”

 

Kylo is actually mildly surprised that Hux would bring that up, considering how hard he’d tried to pretend it’d never happened. “I didn’t mind,” he says finally, and it’s true. “It made me hate you less.”

 

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Hux retorts, halfway-sarcastic.

 

“It was comforting,” Kylo says, his inhibitions lowered enough that he doesn’t really mind being more open with Hux, although he might mind later. “I felt like I wasn’t the only kid losing my mind.”

 

“You weren’t, I assure you. Plenty of our classmates were in some stage of a downward spiral, everyone expressed it differently. You acted out, for example, and I…acted _in_.”

 

“Why did you call _me_?” That question had nagged at him for years now, ever since the first time it happened. He never knew what compelled Hux to reach out to him, someone he might refer to as a nemesis.

 

“You were already coming to me, remember? I never asked why you chose me, but I assumed it was because you had no one else to turn to. I figured that it could be a two-way street. If you could trust me with your laundry list of issues, I could trust you to sometimes distract me from the reality of my own situation.”

 

Kylo nods, slowly. “Were we ever actually friends?”

 

“I don’t think so.” Hux seems to mull over the question even after he’s answered. It was…complicated. At times it was like they were extremely close friends, and other times where they meant nothing to each other.

 

“Did you ever wish we were?”

 

Hux looks over at him, and Kylo is quickly becoming unsettled by the way his eyes study him. Hux has always been very good at reading others, and Kylo’s expressive face made him an open book.

 

“It would’ve made things easier,” he muses after a while. “To be able to just confide in you instead of meeting you at a park at midnight.”

 

Their conversation eventually steers away from such serious philosophical topics and moves on to Hux’s own past eight years. He’d gone to a good college and received his master’s degree in engineering, also participating in grassroots campaigns as a volunteer in several different elections. He had considered venturing into a political career, but instead he’d moved back to Santa Fe and was hired as the new headmaster of his own old high school, and fell in love with the job. It satisfied his need for organization and control, and he derived satisfaction in seeing the students succeed. He figures that he’s still young enough to launch a career in politics anytime he so desires. Other than his success as a school administrator, Hux also still played violin, and he owns a ginger cat named Millicent.

 

By the time they hit another lull in the conversation, which mostly consisted of Hux talking and Kylo listening, they had ventured a sizable distance away from the building where the banquet was held. Hux checked his watch.

 

“Keep walking?” he asks, gesturing to the expanse of sidewalk before them. Kylo doesn’t need any encouraging, and nods before they cross an intersection and continue their walk.

 

Kylo talks about New York, and Phasma. He also talks about Snoke, and the reasons why he’s so worried about making his latest work the absolute best that he’s capable of. He also talks a little about the time he served in the marines, some of the men he knew. Their particular squadron was called “The Ren”, as this was their leader’s last name, and all the members were closely bonded. Over the course of their service, it became a running gag to be called by their name, followed by “Ren”. Kylo had taken over as leader when theirs had been killed in duty, and that was why his alias was Kylo Ren. The “Kylo” part was simply a name he liked, and it flowed well together with the other half. Hux looked at him like he was a little stupid, but accepted this information without comment.

 

Eventually, they approached a tall building, and Hux turned to Kylo abruptly. “Congratulations, you’ve just walked me home.” He seems a little surprised himself.

 

“Hux, I really didn’t mean that when I said we should get out of here,” Kylo jokes, unable to resist.

 

Hux elbows him halfheartedly. “Shut up. Are you walking back? I think since I’m already here I’m just going to call it a night. It’s already late, anyway.”

 

“Are you just asking me because you want me to leave?” Kylo asks, glancing over his shoulder and making to turn around when Hux’s voice stops him.

 

“No, I’m asking because I’m genuinely surprised that you’d actually want to go into my apartment.” Hux raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”

 

Kylo says nothing, but follows Hux into the lobby and up the stairs like a stray dog. When they actually get inside Hux’s apartment, Kylo realizes that he’s getting tired. He hears Hux say something about tea as the other man disappears into another room, and sits down on a couch that is much too fancy for his own taste. It’s surprisingly comfortable, overstuffed leather. For some reason, this whole place is comfortable, the atmosphere isn’t as sterile as Kylo might’ve assumed; it’s nicely furnished and well-organized, but there are obvious personal touches. The air smells like some kind of candle, not cleaning products. Kylo sinks further into the couch, and then he feels a sudden weight on his lap. When he looks down, he meets the green eyes of who he assumes is Millicent. A tentative stroke down her back revealed that she was very enthusiastic about getting affection, regardless of it coming from a stranger. He pets her while his eyes steadily begin to flutter closed.

 

Kylo can hear Hux call something out from another room, presumably the kitchen, but he’s already halfway unconscious. He mechanically slips off his shoes and shifts to lay across the couch. He can see why Hux would want one like this, it’s long enough to accommodate long legs. He stretches out comfortably, Millicent maneuvering around until she curls up on his chest and settles down for a nap. That sounded nice, Kylo thought as he started to slip away.

 

By the time Hux came back into the living room to repeat his question about the tea, Kylo was already asleep. “What the fuck?” he mutters, having been unaware that Kylo somehow translated “one cup of tea” to “By all means, sleep on my sofa”. He walks over, fully prepared to shove Kylo onto the floor, but when he comes around the side and sees Millicent sleeping peacefully with him, something gives. Hux stares at the odd pair, his cat shedding her orange fur all over the black fabric of Kylo’s shirt, then the expression on Kylo’s face, as if all his problems were suddenly gone. He looked so relaxed, gentler than when he was awake, no longer harsh and intimidating. After a long moment, possibly a little _too_ long, Hux decides not to shove Kylo off the couch. Instead he only huffs in annoyance before going to take the kettle off the stove and then to bed himself.


	10. Chapter 10

When Hux awoke the next morning and shuffled into the living room, he was reminded that he had a dark, brooding man slung across his sofa. An _excellent_ start to his day. He completely ignored Kylo’s unconscious body in favor of going into his kitchen for the tea he hadn’t had last night. This time with caffeine. Checking emails took up most of the morning, checking in on all the school’s activities, making sure all affairs are in order for the coming week. An imposing shadow crosses into Hux’s periphery.

 

“Good of you to join the living,” Hux says, eyes never leaving his draft addressed to his staff. He needed to focus on including all the information necessary for them to move forward. The semester was coming to an end, finals were on the horizon.

 

“I didn’t intend to sleep here,” is all Kylo offers in reply. A cursory glance shows that he’s probably not fully conscious yet, and is looking around almost gingerly. Hux rolls his eyes and pushes the chair across from him out with his foot. Kylo looks at it a moment before choosing to sit.

 

“I’m glad to know you weren’t _intentionally_ an inconvenience.”

 

“What time is it?” Kylo is running his hand through the absolute chaos that is his bedhead, god only knew how he managed to get it like that from just sleeping on a couch, but then again his hair seemed to become wild and unruly at the smallest breeze or touch. His voice is gravely and heavy from sleep, somehow even lower-pitched than usual. It shouldn’t be as attractive as it is.

 

“10:30.”

 

Kylo is quiet, but Hux can feel his intense eyes on him. He finishes typing out his last email, satisfied with its contents, and finally looks up at Kylo. “What?”

 

“Tea?” he asks after a long pause, expression just a little conflicted. Like he doesn’t even know if he should be here or leave.

 

“Make it yourself. Kettle’s on the stove.”

 

Kylo gets up and begins rifling through Hux’s cabinets until he finds the cups and tea bags. For so large a man, Hux sometimes forgets how naturally quiet Kylo is. Even if the action itself was intrusive and set Hux on edge, Kylo wasn’t slamming drawers shut or banging silverware around. Hux goes back to other matters of business on his computer when he hears a loud electronic melody. Kylo digs his phone out of his pocket and groans when he looks at the screen, then leaves the room while the kettle simmered on the stovetop. By the time Kylo returns, the kettle is whistling. He jams his phone back into his pocket and pours the hot water into a cup, then slumps into the chair again.

 

“Did you tell your mother hello for me?”

 

“She wanted to know where I was.” It didn’t sound like that conversation had gone well.

 

“I would too if my son disappeared for the night without a word.”

 

“She’s fine now. I think.”

 

They sit in silence while Kylo drinks his tea and Hux fucks around online. They glance at each other occasionally.

 

“I’ve thought about your offer,” Kylo says suddenly, “if it’s still on the table.”

 

“It is.”

 

“Can you tell me about the concept you had in mind?”

 

 “Scoot over here.”

 

Hux opens up the proper image files while Kylo obeys the instruction, gabbing the sides of his chair and maneuvering it to sit beside Hux. He tries to ignore the fact that inviting Kylo closer almost guarantees he’s going to invade his personal space, considering how bad he’s always been with boundaries. As if on cue, Kylo puts his face right over Hux’s shoulder to get a proper look at the screen. Hux pushes the laptop between them, hoping it’ll foster some distance.

 

Kylo reaches out and zooms in on the concept art to examine it more closely. “This would be easy to complete,” he says, sitting back in his chair and giving Hux room to breathe. “The color palette would only consist of five colors, the shapes are simple.”

 

“As I said, it would probably be the easiest thing on your plate right now, and you’d make a bit of money while you’re away from your work.”

 

Kylo seems to consider this, then moves his eyes from the screen to Hux’s face. Green eyes stare back at him. “I’ll send my resume and portfolio later today,” Kylo says finally.

 

“ _Hell_ , what if I just gave you the job so we could just be done with it?” Hux replies in exasperation. If he’s being honest, not too many artists had come forward for the mural, not that he would ever tell Kylo that.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“Yes. Give me your email and I’ll send you the details.”

 

Kylo left soon after that, mostly because Hux was making it obvious that he’d well past overstayed his welcome. He’d stumbled out the door, looking a mess, and stomped down the hall to the staircase. Hux watched him go, snorting in both annoyance and reluctant endearment.

 

* * *

 

 

When Kylo comes home, there’s hell to pay. He gets in the door and Leia is already standing there, arms folded and expression stern. He sighs and braces for the speech, the one she always gives him when he fucks up.

 

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were going off with Hux?” she says, and at least she keeps her voice low enough that the rest of the house isn’t within earshot. “You could’ve texted me or something, at least. Do you ever use your brain when you make decisions?”

 

“I lost track of time. It’s not going to happen again,” he replies, already making for the stairs. He desperately needs a shower.

 

“It _better_ not,” Leia warns, loudly because he’s moving farther away from her. She’s probably only relenting because he doesn’t actually live here anymore; he’s under their roof, but he could leave any time he wants. Maybe she’s even _scared_ that he’ll leave if she’s too hard on him. Or maybe she just knows that he knows the speech by heart, and that repeating it won’t really change anything.

 

Kylo feels better after the shower. Clean clothes also help, considering that damn cat shed all over last night’s shirt. He isn’t sure why Hux let him spend the night when he easily could’ve woken him rudely and sent him home. It made more sense for him to do so, considering his obvious dislike of Kylo. Sometimes he couldn’t read Hux at all, and it drove him crazy. It was almost as if he was being unpredictable just to spite Kylo. He huffs and lays across the now familiar guest room bed. The unused mattress now conforms to his body, not exactly comfortable but also not as stiff as before.

 

Han peers into the room a few minutes later, looking wary. “Want to get out of the house for a while? Maybe your mom won’t be on the war path by the time we get back.”

 

Kylo swings his body to sit back up on the bed. “And go where?”

 

“Around town, out and about,” Han says vaguely. “We’ll take the Camino.”

 

“Sure,” Kylo sighs. It’s not like he was planning to do anything here. Han is gone by the time he stands up and makes for the bedroom door. He follows Han downstairs, and the pair slip out the front door before Leia can stop them to ask where they’re going. Han tosses the keys to Kylo.

 

“You drive.”

 

It catches Kylo off-guard, being told to drive. He’s only been allowed to drive the Camino maybe twice before. It was one of Han’s most prized possessions.

 

“You’re sure?” he asks, trying to keep the awe out of his voice.

 

“Yeah,” Han replies, ducking his head away so that Kylo can’t see his expression. “I probably shouldn’t be driving much anymore, anyway. And I trust you not to wreck it.” He says it casually, as one would sound when discussing the weather, but Kylo knows better. He slowly unlocks the doors and climbs into the driver’s seat.

 

Automatically, this car is more suited to Kylo’s long legs. It’s comfortable, the upholstery has been beyond broken-in with the years Han’s spent driving it. They pull out of the driveway carefully, and then it’s just the two of them and the road. It’s hard to ignore how this situation mirrors the night Han drove Kylo to the house. It’s different now, somehow. The silence between them is comfortable, or as comfortable as the two of them can get.

 

“We’re headed to the hardware store first,” Han says, gesturing to the left of them. Kylo knows the way and doubts he’ll ever forget, the hardware store was the place Han drove him every week for his entire childhood. They would go in, and all the people there knew Han. He’d make small-talk with them while Kylo played with the boxes of washers and bolts. They pull into the tiny parking lot and park, and Han leads the way inside.

 

“Hey Han!” the shop owner calls from behind the counter, smiling warmly. She’s only a vague memory to Kylo, but her face is familiar and oddly comforting. Kylo stares at her purple hair for a little too long.

 

“Amilyn,” Han greets in return, just as fondly. “Got the parts I need?”

 

“I sure do, I just need to go get them from the back,” Amilyn says, coming out from behind the counter. Her blue eyes fall on Kylo, looming behind Han, and the smile doesn’t leave her face. “Who’s this young man?”

 

Han snorts, gesturing over his shoulder. “This is my kid, Ben.”

 

“ _Ben_ ,” Amilyn repeats, looking surprised but no less friendly. “I haven’t seen you in years! And you’ve really grown up. Do you remember me at all?”

 

Kylo shifts his feet, feeling just a little uncomfortable. “Vaguely.”

 

“It’s been so long, I don’t blame you. I’m Amilyn Holdo, a friend of your parents,” she replies, heading off into presumably the back room to retrieve Han’s items. Han and Kylo stand near the front and wait. Just a minute later, Amilyn returns with a box of various parts and pieces. Han meets her back at the counter, Kylo shadowing behind him.

 

“So,” she says, tapping away at the register, “Leia’s back in town?”

 

“For now,” Han huffs, digging through his wallet. “Always feels like she’s gone again before I can blink.”

 

“She’s one busy woman,” Amilyn agrees. “Let her know that I expect her to keep our lunch date, though. No weaseling out of it this time.”

 

“Sure thing.” Han pockets his change and grabs the box off the counter. “Thanks again, Am.”

 

“Thank _you_ for all this business.” She smiles at each of them in turn. “Hope to see you again soon.”

 

Han stows the box in the trunk and they proceed down the road. “Amilyn is good people. I’m honestly surprised you don’t remember her.”

 

“I remember snippets,” Kylo replies. Her voice was familiar, as was her face and mannerisms. Kylo could remember times when he was toying with a screw or a tape measure and Amilyn would sit on the floor with him and make up random nonsense stories that gave him giggle fits. He also remembers some occasions when she would be at the house, maybe even watched him while his parents were busy.

 

Han hums to himself and they drive on. “Where next?” Kylo asks, not wanting to cruise around aimlessly.

 

Han proceeds to lead them through a series of random stops, including two thrift shops, the scrap yard, and out to the airfield where he piloted cargo planes. They ate lunch at some hole in the wall sandwich shop, the only part of the day that Han allowed Kylo to pay. The conversation was few and far between as they went from place to place. Everywhere they went, everyone knew Han. It was sort of amazing to see how much of the community knew and liked him, but it also made Kylo bitter. Han had touched so many lives, kept in contact with so many people, and yet he and his own son barely had a relationship to speak of.  It was late afternoon by the time they had finished Han’s list of errands. Kylo felt exhausted by all the social interaction.

 

“Want to stop by one last place?” Han asks, eyeing Kylo.

 

“Where?”

 

“Maz’s bar,” he replies. “We don’t have to if you’re too tired.”

 

Kylo huffs and gets in the turning lane. Maz Kanata’s bar was another place that he remembered from his childhood, and Maz herself was a more permanent memory in his mind than Amilyn was, considering how unforgettable a person she is. Han, not the most conventional father, used to bring Kylo there for poker nights in the back room of the bar, leaving Kylo in Maz’s care for however long that took. Kylo wouldn’t consider it particularly negligent parenting, but it was definitely unusual. Kylo hadn’t been there since he’d hit legal drinking age. He’d drank quite frequently at seventeen, but never at Maz’s. She would see him dead before she’d allow underage drinking at her bar.

 

The bar is much busier than Kylo’s ever seen it. He’s only ever been there in the later hours though, so he isn’t particularly sure how much business Maz has during the day and into the evening.

 

“Han Solo!” she calls out from her place at the bar, making several patrons turn their heads to watch him and Kylo walk in. Han gives a stiff wave, largely ignoring the looks they receive.

 

“Hey Maz,” he says, sitting at the bar. Kylo sits down beside him.

 

“And Ben! Ha, I haven’t seen you since you were my height!” Maz is smiling at him. She’s barely tall enough to see properly over the bar, but her personality is as jaunty as ever. Kylo hunches his shoulders in embarrassment.

 

“He really shot up,” Han agrees, smirking. It’s obvious from the beginning that this conversation will include a lot of teasing at Kylo’s expense.

 

“Speaking of shots,” Maz says, pulling out a couple glasses and filling them. She and Han throw theirs back before Kylo can even reach for his. He looks between the two of them before emptying his glass and setting it back on the counter.

 

“No more for him, he’s my driver,” Han says.

 

The ensuing conversation goes about as well as Kylo predicted. Han and Maz have a hell of a time poking fun at him, and he occasionally will fire back at them with devastating sarcasm, which results in peals of laughter.

 

“He’s so much like his mother,” Maz chuckles. “Look at those eyes, he wants us to burst into flames!”

 

Han leaves a lingering look on Kylo, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Yeah, I got twice the temper I bargained for when we had him.”

 

They leave the bar with Han happily buzzed, Maz waving and demanding they come back soon the entire time. Kylo starts driving them home, the sun sinking low in the sky.

 

“Thanks for spending the day with me, kid,” Han says quietly. It catches Kylo a bit off-guard.

 

“Don’t mention it,” he says unsteadily. “Not like I had anything better to do.”

 

Han snorts. “Me and your mom are glad that you’ve come home, even if you’ll eventually go.”

 

“You really had a few shots, huh?” Kylo says, feeling amused with his father for the first time in too long.

 

“It’s not that, I just haven’t gotten around to saying any of this. You know I’ve never been good with my words. I guess I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

 

Kylo grunts in response to this. Intimacy, especially emotional intimacy, makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t trust his voice.

 

“I also really appreciate everything you’ve done for Rey, even though you hardly know her. I know that must be…weird.”

 

“I like Rey,” Kylo says, his voice heavy with resignation. He tried, he _really_ tried, to not get attached to her. He’d failed. He did like Rey, he thought she was smart and funny. He saw himself in her also, the conflict and anger and loneliness. In hindsight, it had been nigh impossible not to feel some sense of affection for and responsibility to her.

 

“I noticed. It doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been feeding and driving her around, not to mention the time you spend working out with her. It means a lot to Rey, too.”

 

Kylo can hear the subtle hints in Han’s voice that give away how much he cares about Rey. For the first time, it doesn’t hurt him to know that, it’s a comfort. Han loves Rey as much as she loves him, and Kylo really believes that, instead of thinking that it’s one-sided and doomed to end in disappointment and sadness. He can see that Leia also loves Rey in the way she’s so much gentler around her, the way she’s patient with helping with homework and buys Rey’s favorite snacks when she goes grocery shopping. He’s starting to realize too, as an adult, that his parents aren’t the monsters he’d decided they were. It didn’t erase all the very real problems they had in their relationships with each other, but it was a breakthrough.

 

“This experience has been extremely uncomfortable for me,” Kylo admits, “but I think…it’s going well.” He sounds unsure of this, but maybe it is true. Han just leans back in the passenger seat, and they both enjoy the comfortable silence.


	11. Chapter 11

The first morning spent working on the mural was awkward. Hux said he ideally would want Kylo to work on it outside of school hours, but getting it done quickly was prioritized over staying out of students’ way during the day. It was fine, Hux had decided, not that many kids passed through the front hall anyway. Kylo was supplied with all the paints and brushes and rollers and tape he needed, and spread a tarp on the floor in front of the wall.

 

His plan was to map out the basic shapes of everything, and start painting by color: going through and painting everything that needed to be red, then going in with yellow and repeating the process until everything was finished. It was just flat colors, so the entire thing wouldn’t take longer than two weeks by Kylo’s estimation. One thing he didn’t realize until he stood in front of the white wall was that he’d never painted something this big before. Sure, some of his canvas pieces were pretty large, relatively speaking, and he’d even done a couple smaller murals, but this was an entire hallway. He had to walk the length of it, back and forth, for several minutes before he finally began.

 

There was no decorum to the way Kylo painted. He was unafraid of spilling, or smearing it on himself. He started two hours before classes began for the day, and it took the entire first hour to map out the shapes and lay down whatever tape Kylo needed. Leia dropped off Rey with fifteen minutes to spare before first period, so she came up to Kylo and laughed at how much red paint he had on his clothes.

 

“There’s hardly any on the walls,” she giggles. “Better go straight home after you’re done, you look like you just murdered someone.”

 

Kylo shrugs. “Paint is messy. Go to class.”

 

He worked diligently and methodically, with some teachers and secretaries occasionally stopping to watch him. It was soothing, mindlessly rolling the paint onto large areas of the wall. He stopped for the day after a couple hours of work, making sure to look over the mural’s progress before he put away all of his supplies.

 

Rey had been right about her observation, Kylo realized when he got home and actually looked in the mirror. Red everywhere. He chucked his now-ruined shirt and pants into a corner of the room to be dealt with later, mentally noting yet again that he really needed to find the time to buy more clothes before he ran out. The shower water ran pink.

 

After painting for several hours….Kylo painted. The second piece of his trio needed to be started. He set up the easel, mixed his palette of paints, and set to work. This one was similar to most of his typical work, but stylistically it was different. Kylo was placing very severe, purposeful brushstrokes, like each one was a strategical move on a battlefront. The colors were lines of soldiers, marching in formation towards a goal, intense and uniform. He eventually got burnt out on the monotonous laying of paint on the canvas and decided to take a break by emailing Phasma, letting her know that he was, indeed, making headway. First painting was complete, second one in progress.

 

When he picks Rey up from school that afternoon, she’s smiling in a way that has Kylo immediately suspicious. She tosses her backpack into the backseat as usual and folds her hands in her lap, obviously nervous. About what, Kylo cannot possibly guess, but will likely find out soon.

 

“Okay…” she begins slowly, unfolding her hands and smoothing out the fabric of her pants before clenching them back together. “I need a favor.”

 

“A favor.” Kylo states it, tone dripping with skepticism. Rey pauses a moment before she continues, trying and failing to gauge his reaction so far, maybe deciding if it’s even worth it to ask.

 

“I want to go to a party, on Friday,” she says a little too quickly.

 

“And?” Kylo might be some kind of pseudo-guardian to her, but that didn’t mean he had the authority to say yes or no to a question like this. And for the record, both Han and Leia would probably forbid her from going, considering how much grief Kylo had caused them by going to parties during high school.

 

“I need a ride. And an alibi, because I already know Han and Leia will flat out tell me no.”

 

Oh. _That_ was the favor. “You want me to lie to them for you about where you’ll be?” Rey looks guilty, but nods her head. He can already see this ending badly, but when have any of his own ideas ever been particularly well thought out?

 

“You seem like you did this kind of thing when you were my age so I figured it was my best bet, and I promise this is a rare one-time thing. My friend Poe will be there and he’ll keep an eye on me. I won’t drink either, I just…” _Want to fit in_ , is what Kylo’s brain supplied.

 

“I’ll do it,” he says.

 

“Wait, really?”

 

“If you say this party is safe, and your friend will be there, I’ll trust your judgement.” He stresses his words to sound less like an allowance and more like a warning. _If you fuck this up it’ll be bad for us both, so you’d better be dead sure before we go through with it._

 

“Thank you! I’ll do my absolute best to make sure nothing goes wrong.” Kylo wants to believe her, but something tells him that it won’t go the way she’s hoping. She tries and fails to hide her smile for the rest of the ride home.

 

The rest of the week plods onward. Kylo spends most mornings at the school, working on the mural. Occasionally, Hux will come out of his office and appraise the wall. So far, all he’s given in way of a reaction is hum and nod, then disappearing as soon as he’d shown up. Kylo ignores it mostly, as well as the swell of students who pour in at 8:45. Rey is on her best behavior at home. A smart move, in case their plan fails for whatever reason. Kylo waits until Thursday to casually mention it.

 

“I’m taking Rey out tomorrow night,” he tells Leia as they do the dishes together. She nods her head, barely even acknowledging the words.

 

“What are you two going to do?”

 

“Some new movie she wanted to see,” he says, still disturbingly good at lying to his mother. “Maybe the café afterwards.”

 

“Don’t keep her out too late,” Leia warns. “She’s still not old enough to be running around town at midnight.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

And that was that.

 

Friday came around, and Han allowed them to take the Camino, since Leia was planning to drive somewhere later that night. Rey was practically bouncing with excitement in the passenger seat as they headed for the address. Kylo wasn’t exactly sure what she was envisioning when she pictured a high school party, but in his own experience it was never something to be this excited about. Mostly, it was deafening music, sweaty teenagers, and lots and lots of cheap beer. He’d already told her four times to call if and when she wanted to leave. He was going to try his best to be responsible about this.

 

When they pulled up to the house, a McMansion with a sprawling lawn and a three car garage, Rey all but bolted out the door. Kylo put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

 

“No drinking, right?”

 

“No.”

 

“You’ll be with a friend?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’ll call when you need me to pick you up?”

 

“Yes.”

 

With that he nods and lets her get out and walk up to the house, idling a few minutes after to make sure she goes inside before driving off. Now comes the waiting; Kylo had to stay out of the house for however long Rey spends at this party. He ends up back at the café.

 

“Friday night alone at the coffee shop? Do you have _any_ social life to speak of?”

 

He doesn’t even bother to look up when he hears Hux’s voice. It was an expectation at this point for him to show up. “Do _you_?”

 

Hux shrugs and sits down at the table, looking bitter. “Touché.”

 

“I’m waiting to pick Rey up later. I can’t be seen at home because they think I’m with her.”

 

Hux raises an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned for her safety?”

 

“No, she’s fine,” Kylo replies dismissively. Hux doesn’t seem totally convinced, but he doesn’t push it.

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

Kylo looks up from his phone, his eyes questioning.

 

Hux tries to look casual, but it’s almost comical considering how uptight he is. “Would you want to go and get a proper dinner?” He seems to know that Kylo was planning on eating croissant sandwiches and pastries all night instead of an actual meal.

 

“With you?” Kylo keeps his face neutral, but he can’t suppress the teasing that bubbles up in his voice. “Are you asking me on a date?” He’s toeing the line of poking fun at Hux and a genuinely uncomfortable conversation he’s not sure he wants to have.

 

“Forget it. Like I could stand to spend an entire night with you anyway.” Hux looks flustered, which only encourages Kylo.

 

“You already have, though. At the banquet.”

 

“Do you have to always be _so_ insufferable?”

 

“You even let me spend the night in your apartment.”

 

“Alright, I’m leaving,” Hux pushes out his chair more roughly than necessary. Kylo reaches out a hand to stop him, getting up also. They stare at each other.

 

“I never said no,” he says. Hux looks like he’s still contemplating storming out, then sighs in frustration.

 

“Fine. Come on then.”

 

They take Kylo’s car to a nearby burger place, and it goes about as well as can be expected. Kylo asks what Hux thinks about the mural so far, to which Hux replies that it’s “coming along well enough”.

 

“What does that actually mean?” Kylo asks, brows furrowing. He knows Hux isn’t good at praising others, as he’s never been praised much himself.

 

“It means that it’s good progress. You’ve still got a ways to go.”

 

Kylo snorts. “Yeah.”

 

“I don’t mean it negatively. I’m sure it will look nice when you’ve completed it.”

 

“I guess that counts as a compliment.”

 

“You could stand to be less needy for validation, you know.”

 

 “Guess we have that in common,” Kylo replies.

 

In a bizarre turn of events, which seemed to be the only way their relationship functioned, they ended up talking well past the time that they’d finished eating, and they talked on the drive back to the café, then passed the café and kept driving. The topics ranged from current events to arbitrary opinions to rehashing old debates from high school. It seemed that just when they thought they knew their pattern, things went the other way. Kylo was making a deadpan joke at something Hux had just said, when his mind begins to wander. They end up pulling up at a park, and got out to wander around in the darkening paths that crisscrossed through the trees.

 

“I was always jealous of you,” Hux confesses. They’d been talking about high school, but Kylo had lost track of when they’d moved on from reminiscing about old classmates, and talking about their feelings. He must’ve been distracted by the way Hux’s profile looked barely-illuminated by the lamps along the pathway.

 

“Why?” He has no idea why anyone would ever envy him. He had a handful of talents, but they had always been outweighed by his issues.

 

“Because,” Hux says, shrugging, “you didn’t care what anyone thought of you. You didn’t meet anyone’s expectations, just your own. It was admirable. Obviously not as much when you were setting fires, though.”

 

“That was _once_ ,” Kylo counters. He’d left a still-lit cigarette in the garbage bin behind the school, and it had quickly caught all the contents on fire. Word got around the school that a girl had seen a few boys smoking together during lunch, and Kylo had been singled out as the one most likely to have intentionally set a fire, which, in that instance, had been true. He’d stopped smoking almost as soon as he’d started, it wasn’t the bad habit for him.

 

“That’s one more time than was necessary. I somehow managed to graduate without causing any kind of safety concern.”

 

Kylo shrugged. “I admire that you always had self-control.” Something he sorely lacked, even in adulthood. Hux had dealt with more than his fair share of idiots and assholes over the years, but he’d always chosen to take out his anger in productive ways, like tipping off a teacher about the joints in their locker or outranking them in something he wasn’t even particularly interested in. Kylo acted on impulse and almost always regretted it afterward.

 

“I have a bad temper too,” he replies, shrugging, “I just simmer in my anger until opportunity arises. You’re too impatient.”

 

The walk on, following the curve of the path, gravel crunching under their feet. In the darkness of the evening, concealed among the trees, it almost feels like they’re the only two people on earth. For some reason, that thought was comforting.

 

“There’s the bench,” Hux comments as he stops to stare at it, sounding slightly surprised, as though up until now he hadn’t even noticed they’d been walking all this way together. Sure enough, there was the bench they always sat on for their late-night conversations. The bronze plaque was a little weathered, but otherwise intact. The pair glance at each other before shrugging and taking a seat.

 

“Being around you feels overwhelmingly nostalgic,” Hux says, letting his gaze rest on the patch of night sky peeking out through the trees.

 

Kylo is perhaps paying too much attention to how close Hux is sitting next to him, the way he can feel the faint heat radiating off his body, the scent of his cologne carried on the breeze. He pulls his eyes away from his companion in order to look around their surroundings instead. This particular bench afforded them privacy, tucked along the pathway between the bushes and trees.

 

“With the way you’ve been talking, I’d almost think you don’t hate me,” Kylo replies.

 

Hux turns to him, his green eyes taking on the color of wet concrete in the darkness. “Who said I hate you?”

 

“I’m pretty sure you have, at least once.”

 

“I’ve definitely said some unkind things to you, but when I did it was only because you had it coming. I can’t speak for you, but I never hated you outright. I wouldn’t have been around you so much if I did.”

 

That was true, Kylo conceded. “I never hated you either, for the record.”

 

They stare at each other. Kylo doesn’t know what is going through Hux’s mind, but he’s mostly just studying the faintest of freckles on his cheeks and nose. Then his lips, which are even closer than he realized. Before fully realizing it, Kylo leaned in and captured those lips with his own. Hux tensed up, obviously taken by surprise, but before Kylo could retreat and apologize for misreading the situation, he relaxed his shoulders and put a hand over Kylo’s neck, holding him in place. After a few moments, they readjusted, and then Kylo was cupping Hux’s face with his large hands, and Hux was using his hold on Kylo’s neck to pull him even closer.

 

Then, an electronic melody played from the depths of Kylo’s pants pocket, the sound of it startling them apart. Hux was wide-eyed, as if he was just realizing what they had been doing, and Kylo tried to ignore the situation completely in favor of digging through his pants for his phone.

 

“Rey?” He asks as soon as he fumbles with the device and manages to answer the call.

 

 

An unfamiliar voice replies instead. "Hey, this is Poe, Rey's friend. Can you come and pick her up? She needs to go home."

 

“I’ll be there.”

 

Hux looks utterly confused. “What happened?”

 

“I…I need to go.” Kylo starts pacing back down the path, his long legs carrying him quickly forward. Hux scrambles to catch up and keep up.

 

“Is it something to do with Rey?”

 

“Something’s wrong,” Kylo says, trying to keep the address straight in his mind. Trying to keep his temper in check, so that he doesn’t assault whichever little piece of shit did something to Rey. Hoping this doesn’t turn out to be as much of a disaster as it might.

 

“Need help?” They arrive at the car in record time, and Hux is looking at him with a mixture of confusion and concern.

 

The first thing that came to mind was that he might need someone there to hold him back. “Yes.”

 

This is how the next part plays out. Kylo drives at barely-legal speeds and takes corners too fast, and pulls up at the house so quickly that the front tires jump the curb with a squeal. He’s crossed the sprawling front yard by the time Hux is barely getting his seatbelt off, and goes inside without waiting for anyone to invite him in.

 

The party is still in full swing. Teenagers are covering every square inch of the house, the air smells heavily of beer, and the walls pulsating with music. Kylo towers above all of them, which gives him an advantage as he starts hunting for Rey. The crowd parts in his path as he stomps his way through. Some kids look scared, and others are asking him what he thinks he’s doing here. Finally, he catches sight of a familiar bun. Rey is sitting near what seems to be the bathroom. A boy with curly brown hair is crouching beside her, rubbing her back. Kylo looms over them both.

 

“What happened?” He demands, trying and failing to sound more concerned than angry. Both kids jerk their heads up in alarm.

 

“Ben,” Rey exclaims, wiping her nose. The boy at her side, presumably Poe, helps her stand up.

 

Before Rey can speak, a girl comes over to the three of them, holding a plastic red cup in one manicured hand, the other firmly on her hip. “You need to leave,” she says venomously as her narrowed eyes look between them. “All of you.”

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Kylo asks, sneering. The girl looks taken aback, obviously not expecting to have an adult curse at her, then offended a moment later.

 

“We’re leaving,” Poe says, holding his hands up as if to say ‘ _don’t shoot_ ’. “We’re all leaving, right now.” To help diffuse the situation, he starts leading the way to the door, Rey at his side.

 

“Rey Solo, if I ever see your white trash ass at one of my parties again I’m going have you _thrown_ out onto the streets where you belong,” the girl calls out after them.

 

Kylo, who was starting to walk away as well, whipped back around. “What did you just say?”

 

Poe cusses under his breath, trying to keep a hand on Rey to steady her. “Uh, come on, Ben. Let’s all go. We’re going, okay? Nobody needs to get arrested.”

 

The girl snorts. “You heard me. I don’t know who the hell you are, but you must be one of the morons who decided to take her in. You need to keep her out of places she doesn’t belong or she’s going to get hurt.”

 

“And you need to keep your mouth shut about things that you know nothing about, or your tongue is going to get torn out,” Kylo replies, blood boiling. The girl’s eyes are as wide as saucers at this disturbing threat, and she seems to realize that Kylo is not the kind of adult to be a smartass with.

 

Poe reaches out his free hand, hesitantly, and uses it to grab onto Kylo, who shrugs him off immediately but begrudgingly follows them to the door. He reaches out and knocks an expensive-looking vase off a table on his way, then slams the door shut behind them. All three freeze when they find Hux standing in the porch, looking prepared to enter.

 

“Is everything okay?” he asks, eyeing the trio. His gaze lingers on Rey, then moves to Kylo in a silent question. _Do you want my help?_

 

“Shut it down,” Kylo says harshly, jaw still clenched in anger, and that’s all it takes. Hux nods and moves past them into the house. They hear him immediately start shouting at kids to get rid of their alcohol and to get home, calling out a few in particular who happen to be star athletes or honor roll students. After pausing a minute, Kylo takes Poe and Rey to the Camino.

 

“Need a ride home?” Kylo asks gruffly, holding the backseat door open for Rey.

 

Poe looks over his shoulder at the stream of kids running full-speed from the house and nods. “Yeah, please.”

 

By the time the kids were in the car, Hux was returning, calm as ever. He and Kylo share a look before getting into the front seat, and they drive far away from the chaos that has erupted from the house. The ride to Poe’s house is deathly silent and extremely awkward. The only sound is of Rey’s occasional sniffle.

 

Poe all but dashes from the car when they arrive at his house, stopping only a moment to say goodbye to Rey and to thank Kylo for the ride. Hux’s apartment is next, and he gets out with a curt farewell addressed to both Kylo and Rey. He doesn’t so much as look back when he walks to his apartment building, and after all that has happened tonight, Kylo is grateful for it. Rey scoots into the front seat before they begin the journey home. She’s completely cried out by now, but her eyes are red and tired.

 

“Tonight was a mistake,” she says miserably. “They only allowed me to come as a joke. It was fun for about an hour, but then they all rounded on me. I didn’t fight them, though.” The last part is said quietly.

 

“You should’ve.” Kylo would probably be in handcuffs right now if their roles were reversed.

 

“I’m glad I didn’t,” she says. “I don’t want to solve my problems with violence all the time. Besides, apparently all I have to do is call and you’ll threaten murder.”

 

Kylo shrugs. That self-absorbed girl was lucky she was still a kid, and that Poe had been there to keep him from destroying her parent’s home.

 

“Thank you,” she says quietly, “for coming to get me.”

 

“I said I would.”

 

They drive on, quietly, all the way home. When they come inside, hoping their parents were asleep, Han is there to greet them.

 

“Something wrong?” he asks, eyeing Rey questioningly.

 

“No, no,” Rey says, heading for the stairs. “It was just a sad movie.”

 

Han looks at Kylo suspiciously, but he only shrugs in return. He stares up at the stairs where Rey had gone, feeling completely useless.


	12. Chapter 12

The following Monday was awkward. Word spread quickly of Hux’s appearance at the party, as well as the appearance of the mysterious mural painter who’d dragged Rey Solo out and sped away in a black El Camino. Some whisperings carried more truth than others. The more far-fetched versions claimed that Rey had called the headmaster herself to come ruin the party, and that her crazy cousin had stormed the party and verbally assaulted one of the hosts. Hux was forced to take over the morning announcements and set the record straight. Yes, he’d come to the party and shut it down, and yes Kylo, Rey’s foster brother, had come to pick her up, but nothing more had happened. Bottom line, there had been unsupervised underage drinking, and all who had participated should be ashamed. He had the secretaries write up a letter to send home to parents as a means of damage control. Kylo was told he could only work on the mural after school hours, or on the weekend.

 

Then there was the business of having to see Kylo himself on a near-daily basis. That part was _horribly_ awkward, considering the last time they’d been alone Kylo had kissed him. _Kissed him!_ It was so outrageous a thought that Hux was almost convinced he’d made it up. The proof he needed to know it had, indeed, happened was the fact that Kylo was avoiding his eyes and presence in general. They silently agreed to keep contact to a bare minimum. Hux tried to put the memory of it out of his thoughts, but it was hard not to dwell on. It would be one thing if Kylo had mistakenly pecked his lips and that was the end of it, but Hux had definitely kissed him back. He had even wanted to kiss for longer than they had, but the phone call had cut it short. He thought about it quite frequently now. The kiss. Kissing him again. Moving away to another country and starting his life over.

 

Hux hadn’t planned on being attracted to Ben Solo, of all people. It certainly wasn’t this way in high school, or at the very least Hux doesn’t _think_ he was ever attracted to him before. Even with a stupid fake name like Kylo Ren, and the obnoxious way he carried himself, arrogant yet self-loathing, Hux couldn’t help but appreciate all the many more things about him that were…oddly charming. Like his perpetually messy hair, his large, long-fingered hands, his infuriating mouth, the two moles above his left eyebrow, and _god_ , those dark brown eyes that were like a black hole, pulling Hux in to his death. He also had a brain in his skull, a sharp one at that, and he possessed the kind of dry humor that took you by surprise or often went unnoticed. Those things had never been noteworthy when they were teenagers. Of course Kylo had been attractive back then too, but everything about him screamed of insecurities, not to mention that his relationship with his parents had reached critical mass and the amount of anger he exuded on a daily basis was _terrifying_. Now he had grown into himself, and embraced his stature and forceful nature, he was more confident in himself, and his anger had dissipated. Still deeply flawed, but more self-assured.

 

It disgusted Hux how he could ramble on and on about black hole eyes and the elegance of Kylo’s long fingers, when if you’d asked him two months ago how he felt about Ben Solo he’d have said he had no real opinion, that he’d been a classmate and not much more. Kylo had been someone to lean on, a friendship of convenience. Hux definitely didn’t watch him chew on the end of a pen during a test or hope to see him at a party, telling some stuck-up rich kid to fuck off.

 

Okay, maybe he _had_ always had a crush on Ben Solo, and maybe now that faint interest had grown into full-blown attraction in the past two months. Maybe all the stress had finally driven Hux insane.

 

It didn’t matter anyway. Kylo, by the sound of it, was only here for a short while to fulfill some bizarre sense of duty to his family, and then he was going to leave for New York without a second glance, never to return until perhaps his mother fell ill in her old age. Maybe not even then. All of this was obviously temporary for Kylo, so it had to be for Hux too. He refused, outright refused, to feel the tiniest bit sad when Kylo left. He _wouldn’t_. They could be friends, but he wouldn’t let it go any further.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kylo tried to get Rey to talk to him on Saturday, but she spent the entire weekend barricaded in her room, sneaking out only to get food from the kitchen. On Monday he drove her to school, and although she looked a little better, it was obvious that seeing her classmates was the last thing she wanted to do right now. Kylo almost considered letting her stay home, but breaking the rules for her seemed to only end in disaster, so he thought better of it. Besides, if she didn’t show her face, rumors would run amok, and the kids would only make her life worse when she came back. Maybe if she slipped in now, as if nothing had happened on Friday, her classmates would get bored and move on more quickly. When he picked her up that afternoon, she seemed more relaxed, which was encouraging.

 

“Well,” she said, leaning back in the passenger seat, “nobody threw me against a locker, or spat on me. I got some dirty looks, but nothing I wasn’t used to.”

 

Kylo nods.

 

“Honestly, you kind of stole the attention from me. Most people were complaining about you, and a lot were just confused. A couple senior girls actually asked me…if I would give my ‘ _hot brother’_ their numbers.” She sounds as creeped out by this as Kylo feels. “I threw them away when they weren’t looking.”

 

“Good.”

 

Kylo had honestly been expecting more backlash for his appearance at the party, but Hux had decided to simply move his schedule to times when the students weren’t around. That was just fine by Kylo, he didn’t want to see any of their faces again. Working after school and on weekends suited him just as well. It meant he would probably see less of Hux, which was for the best anyway. The last thing he wanted to examine too closely were all the feelings attached to the headmaster.

 

“I still can’t believe you threatened Patricia Addams like that,” Rey has a glimmer of her usual smile on her face when she says this, and it puts Kylo at ease. “I doubt anyone has ever truly spoken back to her in her life, much less an adult.”

 

“The real world won’t be as kind to her as the bubble she’s been living in. She’ll learn that soon.” He shrugs. If they went through that situation all over again, he’d say the exact same thing, verbatim.

 

“There is one thing I’m still confused about…” Rey begins, and Kylo already knows what she’s going to ask about, feeling apprehension seize up in his stomach. “What were you and Headmaster Hux doing together? Why was he there at the party?”

 

This was exactly the kind of thing Kylo did not want to address. “We ran into each other while I was waiting for you, and I drove him to the party so he could shut it down.” He says the words with finality to them, to let Rey know that he refuses to elaborate. She nods in understanding, but still looks just a little skeptical.

 

“You two seem to be more than former classmates that used to do projects together, is all I’m saying,” she says. “You might want to reevaluate that.”

 

He really didn’t.

 

* * *

 

 

Han was getting worse. Kylo tried to deny this fact when he began noticing the worsening of his cough or the effort he put into standing and sitting, but it had reached the point that he could no longer turn a blind eye and pretend things were still fine. He had to face reality, and the reality was that Han was well and truly on his way to the end. He was lethargic to the point of staying in bed most days, he needed help traveling across the house to the kitchen, and he had to be cooked for and given his pills every day. Han tried to be relaxed about the situation, but it was obvious that he was stressed out. He didn’t want to be a burden to anyone, an individualist to the core, yet he knew that he couldn’t accomplish his daily routine on his own anymore. Of course he would be miserable at the prospect of his body failing him more and more with every passing day.

 

Kylo and Rey’s free time quickly became consumed by helping Han to function day to day. Leia helped too as much as she could, but her schedule was filling up again to the point that she was hardly home. Kylo tried to take on the brunt of the work, but Rey insisted on helping. He assisted Han in getting around the house, and cooked for him, and she made the bed or brought him glasses of water, and moved the TV into the bedroom from the living room.

 

Any downtime Kylo had was spent in the garage painting, and the early mornings of the weekends were spent up at the school working on the mural. Kylo had become very good at _seeming_ fine, but it was exhausting, soul-crushing work, 24/7. Whenever he could find a minute to sleep, it was a black dreamless nothingness that never lasted long enough. His resolve to stay calm deteriorated every day, more and more until he felt on the verge of a meltdown at any moment. Working out didn’t seem to relieve enough stress, nor did throwing himself into his painting. The walls felt like they were closing in.

 

All of this stress culminated one afternoon when Kylo had helped Han back into bed after lunch. He went upstairs, desperate for a nap, and stumbled straight into the stack of cardboard boxes. Of course, the impact of his foot sent the whole thing toppling over, which finally sent Kylo into a rage. He screamed a handful of obscenities, then kicked the boxes some more for good measure. This resulted in an even bigger mess, which resulted in him screaming some more, vaguely hoping that his tantrum was muted behind the closed door.

 

Eventually, he calmed down enough to start returning the contents of the upended boxes to their rightful places. A lot of them were junk that Han had collected over the years: a signed baseball in a little glass case, a broken desk lamp, a plastic tub full of padlocks. Kylo mentally noted that the next time Leia wanted to clean something, she should consider moving all of this useless crap out onto the curb. Maybe he’d do it himself soon.

 

Some of the boxes had “Ben” scrawled on them in black sharpie. He came across the first of these after closing up another one of Han’s, which contained a bunch of rolled-up posters, held closed by rubber bands. Most of these were bands, like Avenged Sevenfold and Trivium, others were of constellations and galaxies that he’d gotten when he was in middle school and had simply not bothered to take down.

 

Another box of his was full of books. A lot of them were the novels he liked as a teenager, or old notebooks from classes that he’d never bothered throwing away, but a couple of them were yearbooks. Hesitantly, Kylo flipped through a couple pages and found his and Hux’s pictures from their sophomore year. Hux’s red hair had been cut short on the sides and back, but left long on top. He looked just as severe then as he did now, but his face was perhaps a little rounder, his freckles a bit more visible than they were now.

 

Kylo was outright _glaring_ into the camera in his picture, wearing the same black leather jacket his father had passed down to him that he wore every day throughout high school. In another box Kylo found that same jacket. It had been too large on him as a teen, as he hadn’t outgrown his wiry lankiness yet. Now he was broader and more muscular, and the jacket would fit nicely across his shoulders and around his arms. He sets it aside, along with a couple of the novels, and continues to rifle through the contents of his old bedroom.

 

Another smaller box was filled with old knick-knacks that Kylo had kept on his shelves: a Rubik’s cube, a NASA mug, a corny bobble head of George Washington that Leia had gotten him on a business trip to DC, a snow globe from an airport gift shop from when they were flying to Leia’s adoptive parents’ house for Christmas, but their flight was delayed due to the terrible weather. Evidently, Kylo was much more sentimental than he’d like to believe. Not only that, he’d cut off all contact with his parents, never once intending to return to them, and yet they had carefully packed away his things and kept the boxes stacked up in the guest bedroom for eight years. They were all a bunch of uncommunicative nostalgics.

 

Kylo continues to systematically sort through his old possessions, setting aside just a few things that he might take back with him to New York. He reaches into the bottom of one box and finds a jacket that he doesn’t recognize. It’s olive-green, made from a thick fabric that would be excellent at keeping out the cold, lined with wool. It’s also much too small for Kylo, and he doubts it would have even fitted him properly as a teenager.

 

Suddenly though, a memory resurfaces. It had been Christmas, in the dead of night. Kylo’s alarm clock read 2:30AM when he awoke to the phone ringing. Hux’s voice had been quiet and defeated when Kylo answered, still groggy and half-asleep. The sound alone of Hux asking if they could meet had woken him almost immediately, worry overwriting any desire to return to the warmth of his bed. He’d barely had the presence of mind to pull shoes onto his feet before he dropped from his bedroom window onto the gravel below. It was cold, one of the coldest nights that year, and Kylo walked all the way from his house to the park. Hux had been waiting on their bench, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. It was winter break, so Kylo hadn’t heard from him in nearly a week, and had no idea what was going on in his life. Hux had been wearing the green jacket. As soon as he saw Kylo, emerging from the darkness in only his pajamas and a pair of sneakers, he’d sat up and managed to look annoyed.

 

“You’re going to catch pneumonia like that,” he’d said, already shrugging off the jacket. Before Kylo could argue, he tossed it at him, hitting him squarely in the face. Hux was dressed in thick pants and a sweater, with a hat and gloves to boot. His cheeks and nose were red, which told Kylo that he’d been out here a while.

 

The jacket was warm from Hux’s body heat. Kylo saw the challenge on his face, just daring him to say no, and he decided that putting the jacket on would be better than being chewed out by someone who was obviously already upset. It fit alright around his shoulders, but stopped a bit too short on his torso. Hux was nearly his size, but a few inches shorter.

 

They sat on the bench and talked until the cold had sunk into their very bones. Hux sent Kylo home, like he was shooing a stray dog who’d followed him down the street. Kylo, in his exhaustion, had clambered back through his bedroom window and tossed the jacket into his closet and forgot about it. If Hux had actually acted like he knew Kylo during school, he probably would’ve asked for it back. But he hadn’t. Now there wasn’t even a point in returning it, there was no way it’d fit Hux now.

 

Kylo had spent quite some time thinking about Hux. Their past relationship had been strange, to say the least, a mixture of intimacy and distance. As if they were inexplicably drawn to each other, yet desperate to keep one another at an arm’s reach. Their reconnection was more like a proper friendship. They teased and made jabs at each other, but it was lighthearted. They spent most of their time having stimulating conversations. Out of all the things in going on in his life, Kylo was grateful for the sense of normalcy he felt around Hux. He wasn’t intimidated by Kylo, nor was he afraid of setting him off. He also didn’t try to win Kylo’s approval, he was just himself.

 

For the first time since that Friday, Kylo let himself think about the kiss. That was new. Kylo hadn’t been consciously aware of attraction before it happened, but in the moment he was sitting beside him it had felt natural to be that close, to breathe in the smell of his hair product and cologne, to see the varied colors in his green eyes, his eyelashes, the freckles scattered across his nose. It felt like the right thing to do, just lean in and kiss him. And Hux had apparently felt the same, or just enough so to kiss him back. The problem was that neither of them seemed to know what to do about it now.

 

Kylo wasn’t going anywhere until the end of January, but after that everything was an uncertainty. He had no way of knowing if Han would live into February, or if he would die suddenly in December. He didn’t know if returning to New York would feel right if it meant leaving behind Rey and Leia in the wake of Han’s death. He _really_ didn’t know what to with his feelings towards Hux. Were they even feelings? He wasn’t sure. Eventually, Kylo had restacked all the boxes against the wall. He had a small pile of books and items at his side, things that he would take home with him. Back to New York. He was leaving, and he wouldn’t come back. He wouldn’t see Rey, Hux, or Leia ever again. He’d forget them all and move on with his career.

 

Is that what he really wanted?


	13. Chapter 13

December brought the colder weather with it, which quickly necessitated Kylo finally going out and buying new clothes for himself. Despite being new, all of it looked identical to the shirts and pants he’d brought with him in October, sans the usual paint spatter. When he was checking out, trying to ignore the flirty smile of the girl who was ringing him up, Kylo eyed the nearby suit section of the department store and felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Sooner than he’d like, he would need one of those, too.

 

Home wasn’t any nicer a place to be. In fact, the opposite was true; Han’s failing health was a constant reminder that he was dying, and it was harder and harder to keep up morale. Rey put on a brave face, but it was obvious how hard it was on her. Sometimes, when Kylo was coming upstairs to slip into bed at night, he could hear muffled crying from her room. There was nothing to be done about it, though, the two of them were all Han had, and their teamwork was the only thing that kept everything running. Kylo, as much as he might’ve wanted to, couldn’t do everything on his own. He really would lose his mind if he did, and he might as well kiss his place in the Snoke exhibit goodbye. Any spare scrap of time had to be devoted to the painting, and whatever else remained went to the mural or sleep.

 

When Phasma called for the first time since October, Kylo knew it was probably not going to be pleasant. She proves him right.

 

“What do you mean you’re still working on the second piece? It’s December. You need to have all three paintings ready by the end of January, before then if at all possible.” It felt like his anxiety had manifested into a human form. None of the things Phasma was saying were things he wasn’t telling himself daily, hourly. He knew she was just frustrated, as he was her highest profile client and her success was riding on his, but she could stand to give him more credit than she did. In just two months’ time, Kylo had gone from doing everything at his own haphazard pace to portioning out every minute of his day to a multitude of different tasks and duties.

 

“I’m almost done with the second piece, and then I’ll start on the third as soon as possible. You need to understand that I’m taking care of a kid and my dying father.”

 

“I _do_ understand that, but I also know that _you_ need to be reminded of the task at hand sometimes. As harsh as this might sound, don’t let personal duty to a man you shut out of your life get in the way of your future. Which, by the way, could be very bright if you don’t manage to mess it up.”

 

Kylo doesn’t like this aspect of having an agent. Phasma was brilliant at getting connections, booking shows, and screening potential commissions. She also handled the business end of all of Kylo’s affairs, which was ideal to someone whose interpersonal skills were being stretched thin just from having to deal with his own family. Phasma was also cold and pragmatic to the core, which meant she said the unkind and insensitive things that sometimes needed to be said to get the job done. To someone as sensitive as Kylo, it was barely tolerable.

 

“I’ll get it done,” he grumbles into the phone, then ends the call before Phasma can continue to guilt trip him into abandoning his family.

 

It feels like every time Kylo gets used to the idea of sticking around Santa Fe, he’s reminded that he doesn’t belong here. And he already knows that, so there’s no point in reminding him. Instead of letting Phasma’s words intimidate him, Kylo decides he has enough time in his schedule to focus on his family. It’s the first time he consciously prioritizes them over his work, and it feels strange.

 

He tries his best, helping Rey with some of her homework even though he’s only good at math and science and she mostly needed help with English, he sits in Han’s room and lets him drone on about whatever he wants to and sometimes even talks too, and he puts in a little more work into the meals he cooks. The atmosphere in the house shifts, it feels less heavy. Like everything was finally balanced, in harmony. Kylo hadn’t felt like that since he was a young child, when his parents would listen to him rave about space travel with rapt attention, Han would carry him everywhere on his shoulders and it felt like Kylo was taller than anyone else in the world, Leia would read her favorite adventure books to him at night, and uncle Chewie and uncle Luke were always around, too. Things had been good once. Maybe they could be again, at least for a little while.

 

Kylo felt a weird sense of peace, even though he was running himself into the ground. Everything he did felt like it was stripping away another level of his ability to function, but it was a satisfying kind of exhaustion, there was a purpose to it instead of just doing everything because it meant he didn’t have to think about anything else. Of course, that feeling didn’t last forever, it couldn’t. Kylo just wasn’t an optimistic person by nature, and he worried too much about the future to focus only on the present for very long. Constantly offering pieces of himself to others was getting to him, having no one who asked how _he_ was, if _he_ needed help.

 

That’s how he ended up at Hux’s place.

 

Han was already asleep for the night, and Rey would be off to bed soon too. Kylo would race back home if necessary, but he was pretty sure that everything would be okay. Not that he was particularly self-assured, he’d just checked on everything four or five times before he left.

 

“You look like a wreck. Did you really drive here?” Hux sounds concerned first and foremost when he answers the door, despite his perpetually annoyed expression, and it makes Kylo’s chest ache for some reason.

 

“Can I come in?” he asks, desperate for comfort, even if that translates to a cup of tea and a twenty minute rant from Hux about getting more sleep.

 

“Sure, why not,” Hux sighs as he steps aside, and Kylo stomps into the spacious apartment.

 

He gets to the center of the living room before turning around. “Did I interrupt something?”

 

“So nice of you to ask after you already drove to my apartment and demanded to come inside. No, you aren’t interrupting anything. I was just reading a book.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Kylo says, flopping unceremoniously into the plush recliner, which sits beside the couch he slept on last time.

 

“What?”

 

“Or just talk, I don’t care.”

 

“Is that what you came here for? One of our old therapy sessions?” Kylo just stares expectantly at him in return, so Hux gives in and takes a seat on the couch. A hardback book sits open on the cushion beside him, and he reaches over to pick it up.

 

“It’s a murder mystery novel. An ex-special forces operative becomes a private investigator and uncovers a cult in a small seaport town.”

 

Kylo snorts. “That’s so cliché.”

 

“Everything is cliché if you think about it. It doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy things that’ve been done before, as long as they’re done well. This book is well-written, so I can overlook the fact that it sounds like a movie I’ve seen before, and even though I could see the ending coming from chapter three.”

 

“Is that what you do in your free time? Read?” The book shelves would seem to indicate that, as Kylo glances around the room. There are four in the living room alone, all of them full.

 

“Mostly. I have other hobbies.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like practicing on my violin. It’s been a while though, I’ve been busy with other things. I also exercise often as a means of stress relief. I go hunting in the spring. And I hone my marksmanship in general at the shooting range, when time permits.”

 

That made sense, Kylo thought. Hux really did want to join the military at one point, and he had always been an excellent shot. His old bedroom, from the very few times Kylo had seen it, was full of trophies from various shooting competitions, particularly skeet shooting.

 

“I found your old jacket,” Kylo says suddenly.

 

“You’re really all over the place tonight, aren’t you?”

 

“I was going through some boxes a week ago, and I found it. The green one you made me borrow that night before Christmas.”

 

Hux stares at him for a moment before talking. “I seem to remember that I _let_ you borrow that jacket out of the kindness of my heart so that you wouldn’t freeze to death. And it was definitely was Christmas, not the night before. It was three in the morning before you showed up.”

 

“The kindness of your heart,” Kylo repeats, huffing what could be interpreted as a laugh. “It would’ve been an inconvenience if your only confidant couldn’t listen to your problems anymore.”

 

“I had trained you so well, you were an investment of my time and effort at that point,” Hux replies casually, not at all denying that Kylo was just a receptacle for all his messy emotions to go.

 

“Why’d you kiss me?”

 

“I should be asking _you_ that.”

 

“But you didn’t, I did. I already know why _I_ kissed _you_ , I want to know why _you_ kissed _me_.”

 

Hux seems like he’s barely succeeding at keeping up with Kylo’s train of thought. It’s a valiant effort, considering he’s gone off the rails quite some time ago. His thoughts come and go without a filter. This wasn’t really why he came over or what he wanted to talk about, but now it was out in the open. Kylo waited quietly for Hux’s answer.

 

“I’m not entirely sure,” he says quietly. “You’re attractive.”

 

Kylo nods slowly, taking in the words.

 

“Why did you kiss me, then?” Hux asks.

 

“Because I wanted to.”

 

They sit in silence again for a few moments, when a small noise brings their attention to Kylo’s feet. Seated there, looking up at him with large green eyes, was Millicent. Kylo holds her gaze before looking back at Hux.

 

“Are you aware that she looks like you if you were a cat?”

 

“ _What_?” Hux looks confused and a little like he’s holding back a laugh. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Ginger hair with green eyes,” Kylo replies simply, reaching a hand out for the cat to inspect. He absently strokes along her back, then up to her head to scratch behind her ears.

 

“I can’t believe she likes you this much already.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it took me years to even tolerate you.”

 

“You must more than tolerate me if you think I’m attractive and wanted to kiss me,” Kylo replies with mock innocence, keeping his eyes on Millicent.

 

“I never should’ve been honest with you. That was my mistake.”

 

“You can’t take it back.”

 

“No, but I can make different choices in the future.”

 

Kylo looks up at Hux again, still hunched forward with his hand resting on the cat. “How so?”

 

This was getting dangerous fast. It was one thing to talk about the kiss, but another thing entirely to challenge Hux to a game of chicken, to see how far he could really push and what would happen if he pushed too far.

 

“I can refuse to let you into my apartment at eleven o’clock at night, for starters,” Hux muses. “I can refuse to kiss you in the future.”

 

“I was unaware there was a possibility that you’d kiss me in the future.”

 

“There isn’t.” It’s subtle, but Kylo can make out the red of Hux’s ears. “I’ll just push you off if you try to kiss me again.”

 

“You would?” Kylo can’t stop the words that come out of his mouth. He’s staring at Hux with growing intensity, and Hux must see it because his breathing stutters, just barely.

 

“I might.” And with that, Kylo can tell that Hux was succumbing to whatever _this_ was.

 

“What if I kissed you right now?” Kylo asks, sitting upright in the chair. Hux seems a million miles away at the end of the couch, and it’s all he can do not to get up and cross that insufferable two foot gap right in that very moment. He forces himself to watch and wait as the tension continues to build.

 

Hux looks like a cornered animal, nervous but with a quiet ferocity that he might unleash at any moment. And all his attention is on Kylo, staring back with the same intensity. “I would allow it,” he says with utter certainty, apparently forgetting himself completely.

 

That’s all it takes for Kylo to climb over the armrest of the chair and onto the couch beside Hux. It isn’t exactly a graceful movement, but that seems to be furthest thing from both their minds.

 

Their first kiss had been hesitant and unplanned. This one was all heat, all desperation. Kylo put his arms around Hux’s waist, pulling him flush against his chest, and Hux in turn wrapped his arms around Kylo’s neck, his fingers hungrily combing through his hair. Kylo wouldn’t call himself experienced when it came to kissing, because he wasn’t, but he knew that he could pick it up quickly, and Hux made up for the learning curve with how aggressively he was moving his lips against Kylo’s. It went from a series of short open-mouthed kisses to long, languid open-mouthed kissing in a matter of a few moments. Then Kylo pulling back, studying the way Hux already looked absolutely wrecked after just a few minutes, and smirking as he angled his head to plant several kisses down his neck. Making out like teenagers hadn’t been something Kylo expected from this visit, but it was welcomed nonetheless. He had forgotten just how nice it was to be this close to someone. To be held and to hold. Share body heat.

 

This time a phone call didn’t separate them, Kylo yawning did. Hux looked unconvincingly annoyed as they sat away from each other. Neither of them seemed to immediately regret their decision, instead they just looked at each other and caught their breath.

 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to fall asleep on my couch again,” Hux says warily.

 

“I can leave,” Kylo offers, but he doesn’t hide the disappointment in his voice at the prospect of going home. He wanted to stay here, in this expensive apartment, with this irritable red headed man and his cat.

 

Hux rolls his eyes. “You can stay. No need to be so pathetic.”

 

Somehow that’s all it takes for the heated moment to pass. They shift on the couch to be closer to one another, but all they really do is talk. Kylo couldn’t resist occasionally reaching out to touch Hux’s hand or arm, or lean into his side and silently breathe in the scent of his hair, which wasn’t severely gelled like usual. Once he’d been given permission to touch him it felt like he’d never stop. Hux didn’t seem to mind one bit either, to his mild surprise.

 

“I can’t really relate to your situation. I think I actually understood you better before,” he says after a lull in their conversation.

 

“What do you mean?” Kylo asks, tracing along Hux’s palm with his index finger. They both stare down at it.

 

“I hated my father. You hated yours too, that’s one of the reasons I talked to you about him.”

 

“I guess I never truly hated him,” Kylo muses. It’s the first time he’s ever said that out loud. “For a long time I thought I did.”

 

“I did. I do. If mine wasn’t already dead, if our roles right now were reversed, I know I wouldn’t drop everything and come to him. I’d let him wither away alone.”

 

Kylo always knew that Hux’s family situation was far more sinister than his own. Hux’s father wasn’t a mostly-harmless but oftentimes emotionally unavailable man like Han, he was severe, demanding, and manipulative. He’d raised Hux to be the perfect, model son, everything _he_ wanted him to be and nothing less. Nothing else. Hux had in turn both resented his father and desperately sought after his approval in everything he did. Failure wasn’t an option.

 

By comparison, Kylo’s problems weren’t so bad. Sure, his mother was also domineering at times, but she meant well. He knew that she’d always had his best interest at heart, but it was just that she wasn’t around for that to actually mean something. It felt like she prioritized her career over him, trusted him to figure things out on his own. And Han had said many things in frustration, without thinking, that Kylo would always remember. He knew deep down that Han had never intended to hurt him by saying those things, but it didn’t make them stop hurting just the same.

 

“What does it feel like?” Kylo asks quietly. “When your parents die.”

 

“I can’t tell you what you’ll feel when it happens, because we’ve had vastly different relationships with our parents, but…when my mom died, it was the most pain I’d ever felt in my life. I was nine, so that’s not saying much, but when you’re that young…it feels like the world is ending, like you’ll never feel happy again. For two entire years I didn’t. And then of course my relationship with my father went completely to shit.

 

“When my father died I was nineteen. I felt relieved, like my life was finally mine. I wouldn’t have to plan out every accomplishment in the hopes that he’d suddenly love me. I could focus on me. And that’s exactly what I did. You might feel more like how I felt when my mom died, or you might feel like how I felt when my dad died, or you may feel a combination of those feelings or something else entirely. The truth is, you’ll only know for sure when it happens.”

 

Kylo sighs, the kind of sigh that deflates your entire body. He slumps against Hux, feeling the strength of his arm and shoulder. He easily supports Kylo’s extra weight against him. They stay close like that for several minutes, not speaking one word. Then Hux is the one to yawn.

 

“Tired?”

 

“It’s half past midnight.”

 

Kylo glanced over at an ornamental clock on a nearby shelf. So it was. He sat upright to let Hux stand up, stretching out his arms and legs after having them in the same position for too long. He started laying lengthwise on the couch, but Hux gave him an odd look.

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Had he changed his mind?

 

“Actually,” Hux said, flicking his gaze away from Kylo, “I was thinking that my bed is more comfortable than the couch.”

 

Kylo didn’t need to be told twice.


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning came around with a hazy golden glow. Waking up tangled up with someone was something Kylo could get used to, the feeling of arms wrapped around his chest and their combined body heat creating a cocoon of perfect warmth under the blankets. Hux had gone into the bedroom last night and rummaged through his dresser for a spare pair of sleep pants to toss at Kylo, and then he’d disappeared into his bathroom to take a shower. Kylo quickly changed and sat down on the bed, a king sized mattress that was extra firm, considering its lack of give. At least Kylo wouldn’t have to bend his legs in order to fit.

 

Kylo had had a couple casual flings in his adult life, but those had been short-lived and didn’t happen often. He had very little tolerance for purely physical relationships apparently, and he’d essentially given up on the possibility of romance. If he was going to devote his time to someone, he wanted there to be more of a connection, and if there wasn’t then he might as well just not ever have a relationship. This was the first time there _was_ a connection, although Kylo would hardly call it a relationship. He didn’t know what to call it. He also didn’t know where this was going or what would happen when it was over, but he was too far gone to stop now.

 

Hux returned in his own pajamas and made a snarky comment about Kylo needing permission to get under the covers. They both climbed into the bed together, meeting in the middle. Kylo went right back to putting his hands on Hux, who mostly seemed to be amused by this. Both of them were tired, but they’d still exchanged more kisses, soft and slow, before falling asleep in each other’s arms. They woke up the same way, facing each other.

 

 It was a Sunday morning, so it wasn’t like either of them really needed to throw themselves out of bed, but Kylo had been away from home too long, and Hux had some business to attend to before Monday, so they reluctantly got up and dressed well before either of them would’ve liked to. Kylo didn’t kiss Hux goodbye, mostly because he knew Hux would probably complain of morning breath.

 

Everything was still dark and quiet at home, luckily. Kylo was able to take a shower and change clothes before Rey got up, and he had breakfast made before Han was coming around. He’d somehow managed to slip right back into the schedule as if he’d been there the whole night.

 

“I’ll go get him up,” Rey says as she rinses out her milk glass. She hands it to Kylo to dry before disappearing in the direction of the master bedroom. Kylo finished the dishes before following suit. Together, they get Han to take his pills, help him get into the bathroom to wash up, and walk him to the kitchen to eat. Once he was situated in bed once again, Kylo went into the garage to put the finishing touches on the second painting.

 

The fiery hues of the paint converged at the center, the edges of dark grey transitioning to reds and oranges and finally into a vibrant yellow. It was unique; orderly, as far as abstract paintings went. There were no soft edges, every stroke was visible on the canvas, harsh and unrelenting. He finished it early in the day and immediately set up the third. It was December, he needed to work quickly if he wanted to have all three in New York by the end of January. The others were interesting and different enough that Kylo decided the third would be in his own usual style.

 

Leia officially took leave of all duties that required her physical presence on Monday, and returned home to tend to Han full time. It was a massive relief to both Kylo and Rey. Having Leia around meant for the most part that Rey didn’t have to help out with Han anymore, and could focus on normal teenager things instead, like going to hang out with Finn and Rose on the weekends. Kylo appreciated it as well, not having to wake up every day at the break of dawn to start running the household on his own, and being able to leave the house without worrying that disaster would strike at any moment. He slept better as well, knowing that the burden didn’t fall solely on him anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

“My mother wants to have a dinner tomorrow night,” Kylo says one Thursday while working on the mural. It’s past five o’clock, and he and Hux are the only two people left at school other than the janitors. Hux is currently leaning outside the office doors, watching Kylo work for a while before he leaves for the day. Since the events of Saturday night, the two of them have stopped avoiding one another while Kylo works on the mural. Hux often stays later than necessary to keep him company.

 

“Are you happy or upset about it?” Hux asks.

 

“Conflicted.” Kylo shrugs, still facing the wall as he finishes off another section. “She asked me to invite you.”

 

“Why?” He doesn’t sound off put by the offer, just perplexed. “I didn’t think I made any particular impression on your mother.”

 

Kylo thinks about the photograph Leia took of them doing a school project together, and how she kept it for all those years. “You did, but that’s not why. She’s noticed that I’ve been spending a lot of time with you and wants to know why.”

 

This was true. Kylo spent a good amount of his free time with Hux, whether it was sitting in the café together after the school was closed for the day, or going to his apartment in the evenings. Leia was extremely perceptive, and it hadn’t escaped her attention that every time she’d asked where Kylo had been, the answer was almost always the same.

 

“Feel free to say no,” Kylo adds. It’s not that he doesn’t like Hux, or that he’s embarrassed of him, it’s more that Hux is Rey’s headmaster, which is extremely awkward all on its own, and also that there’s a high likelihood that Kylo’s family will grill Hux relentlessly about anything and everything the entire time. He’s trying to protect him, really.

 

“I might say yes, actually,” Hux says thoughtfully. “At the very least it’s bound to be interesting.”

 

“I hope you realize what you’re agreeing to,” Kylo grits out, crouching to start packing away the supplies for the day. The mural is nearly complete now, maybe a couple more full days of work before all the paint is up and the tape can be stripped away to reveal the finished piece. Kylo doesn’t know if the fact that they’re now sort-of-but-not-really dating, but Hux is more complimentary than before, and more likely to poke his head out of the office and look at Kylo’s work. No matter the cause for it, it’s appreciated. Kylo thrives on validation.

 

“I’ll give you my final answer tomorrow,” Hux says, and pushes off the office door to make his way out the doors and towards the parking lot.

 

“Fine,” Kylo says, finishing up stowing the supplies away and falling into step with Hux. They walk out to Hux’s car, one of the only four in the lot, where Kylo traps him between the driver’s side door and his body and leans down the two inches it takes to kiss him. Their relationship was a Schrödinger’s experiment, both existent and nonexistent. Kylo didn’t want to ask. Not only because it was an extremely juvenile thing to do, but because he didn’t especially want to know the answer. Hux wouldn’t mince his words either, and Kylo couldn’t handle the possibility of this one nice part of his life disintegrating. This was nice though, kissing Hux whenever he pleased, so long as it was deemed “appropriate”. No kissing while in the building, but outside in the parking lot was fine.

 

“I hope you know what you’re getting into,” Kylo says, hands still resting on Hux’s waist. “I won’t be able to protect you from all my mother’s questioning.”

 

“Don’t be so dramatic, I can handle a few questions.” Hux rolls his eyes, a small smirk twisting his mouth. “Now go paint. I have places to be.”

 

Kylo huffs and lets Hux go. “Tomorrow, then,” he says, making to head towards his own car.

 

“Tomorrow,” Hux replies, climbing into the driver’s seat of his own car.

 

Leia seems pleased to hear that Hux is considering her invitation. Kylo still thinks it’s a bad idea, but can’t particularly do anything about it, it’s out of his hands. Hell, she could invite Hux to a private lunch with just the two of them to discuss god only knew what, and Kylo wouldn’t have a say in the matter.

 

“I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss about this,” she says. “We had that Hux boy over all the time when you were kids.”

 

“I don’t consider four or five times _‘all the time’_ ,” Kylo grumbles.

 

“Still more times than any of your other friends,” Leia shrugs. “You’ve been spending a lot of your time with him lately. And you know, you wanting to keep him away for me is just making me more curious.” Kylo grimaces at her, which just makes her smile and chuckle. “Don’t look at me like that, tomorrow night will go fine.”

 

He’s not convinced.

 

As fate would have it, Hux agrees to coming to dinner when Kylo sees him at the school the next day. Kylo stops painting and leaves early to drive Rey home under the guise of needing to help prepare the house. In reality, he mostly needs to mentally prepare himself, and inform Rey that Hux will be joining them so that she too can prepare for this hellish evening. He tries to casually mention it as they drive.

 

“So,” he begins, taking a long breath. “Hux is coming. Tonight.”

 

“What? Really?” Rey sounds both surprised and unhappy. She can’t even manage to keep it out of her voice. “I know you like him and everything, but you do know he hates me, right?”

 

“He doesn’t hate you,” Kylo replies, disregarding the other part of what she just said. He and Hux had spoken of Rey a couple times, and Hux had conceded that while a troublemaker, Rey was a smart girl with a lot of promise. Kylo had mentioned her interest in soccer, which Hux agreed would be a positive outlet for her obvious issues with aggression. Any negative emotion he had in regards to Rey was mainly disappointment.

 

“You don’t think it will be awkward to have him there? With you, me, Leia and Chewie?”

 

“I know it will,” Kylo says, sighing. He was counting on it.

 

Rey leans back in her seat and crosses her arms. “Great.”

 

Hux arrives perfectly on time, dressed too nicely for the occasion just as Kylo predicted he would be. Kylo watches in apprehension as he politely greets Leia and Rey, and then moves to the living room to meet Chewie. Discovering that he was deaf didn’t throw Hux off in the slightest, he began signing immediately, occasionally speaking phrases that he didn’t know how to. Kylo could only bring himself to be mildly surprised. Of course Hux would know the basics of sign language, he probably prepared himself in every conceivable way to be most effective at his job as a high school administrator. It would be imperative to be able to communicate with as many students as possible.

 

Rey kept to the kitchen in an obvious attempt at avoiding Hux. Kylo eventually leaves him with Chewie to help her set the table. Through their combined efforts, the napkins, plates, and silverware were all placed nicely around the dining table. By the time they’d finished, Leia announced that the food was ready, so everyone gathered around the table, Hux beside Kylo and Chewie beside Rey, with Leia at one end and the opposite end left empty. Han wouldn’t be joining them, instead taking his meal in his room. He demanded that they bring him desert afterwards, of course. To Kylo’s surprise, Hux and Chewie had hit it off. They spent most of the dinner signing back and forth about politics and Chewie’s career as a pilot alongside Han. Rey did her best to go unnoticed, obviously uncomfortable. Kylo felt sorry for her, having to sit across from the headmaster of her school. He would’ve been mortified if his parents had invited _his_ headmaster over for dinner, but that would’ve been impossible, that old man would never have set foot in the Solo-Organa home.

 

Leia eyed Kylo during a lull in the conversation. “So, Hux,” she began, and Kylo braced himself for the hail of questions to follow. He could see in his periphery that Rey was also cringing from across the table.

 

“Yes?” Hux asks, looking down the table at Leia.

 

“How did the two of you reconnect? Did you contact each other?” This was the worst-case scenario. Leia wasn’t going to ask roundabout questions about Hux’s hobbies or work, she was going straight for the most intriguing aspect of him, his relationship to Kylo. She was going to prod Hux with inquiries that were purposely obtuse in order to get the truth out of him. Kylo had no idea how much Hux would be willing to share, so he remained silent in apprehension.

 

“We actually ran into each other at the coffee shop down the street,” Hux says, completely unfazed by the fact that all eyes were on him now. “We started talking steadily shortly after that. I was surprised to see him after so many years, but we’ve both grown and I think we’re less liable to get into a screaming match than we were as teenagers.”

 

“I was unaware that you ever _had_ screaming matches,” Leia says, her eyes flicking back to Kylo for a millisecond. “Actually, Ben was quite tight-lipped about you. I wouldn’t have known you existed if you hadn’t come over.”

 

“Well, he isn’t exactly talkative,” Hux says.

 

“True…” Leia muses. “But he always found time to complain about the other kids at his school. You must’ve been special.”

 

Kylo wished for a quick and merciful death in that moment, staring down at his half-eaten food with his face burning. No one commented on or reacted to him, just carried on the conversation as if it wasn’t embarrassing him to the point of blushing. The rest of the dinner was just as terrible, and ended, horrifically, in Leia and Hux laughing together as they shared memories of Kylo during high school.

 

Finally, it was time for desert. Leia sliced up the pie and Kylo nearly smacked his knee into the table in his rush to stand up and volunteer to bring a piece to Han. He left the room with the pie on a plate, not making eye contact with anyone as he went. He stayed with Han for several minutes after delivering the pie, perched on the chair Leia kept in the room to lounge in while she read with one knee drawn to his chest.

 

“How’s it going in there?”

 

“Hux is in there bonding with mom, how do you think it’s going?” Kylo replies bitterly, staring ahead at the TV. It’s on some sort of travel or history show about ancient ruins in South America.

 

“That bad, huh? Now I’m kind of happy I get to stay back here.” Han finishes his pie and lays back on the bed. “I’d go back out there before they come looking for you.”

 

“You just don’t want them to come in here,” Kylo mumbles.

 

“Can you blame me?” he asks, gesturing towards the doorway. Kylo can hear the sound of a couple voices being carried down the hallway. He had a point.

 

“Need anything else?” he asks as he gets up to collect Han’s discarded dishes. Han shakes his head, then turns his attention back to the show about Aztec temples. He wishes Kylo luck as he makes his way back down the hallway.

 

When Kylo returns, Hux and Leia are discussing current events while Chewie looks on with rapt attention and occasionally makes a comment here and there. Rey has apparently excused herself from the table while Kylo was gone. Smart girl. He walked around the table, silently collecting additional plates before heading into the kitchen to start washing them. When he gets there, Rey is already at the sink, scrubbing food off of the pots and pans.

 

“That was the most tangibly awkward night of my entire life,” Rey says when she notices Kylo. He sets the dishes down on the counter and takes the place beside her to begin drying what she’s already washed.

 

Kylo only grunts in response, feeling drained. He still had the walk out to Hux’s car to look forward to. That would likely turn into an opportunity to make fun of him in private before he left for the night.

 

“You really _do_ like Hux, don’t you?” Rey asks quietly, her tone suggesting that she already knows the answer. “I can’t imagine why you’d subject yourself to this otherwise.”

 

Kylo just dries the dishes more forcefully instead of replying, scrubbing at each plate with the towel until they squeak in protest.

 

Finally, mericfully, Hux decides that it’s time to leave, an hour after dinner had ended. Chewie had excused himself to go hang out with Han in the bedroom a while ago, so he’d moved down the table to sit beside Leia while they continued to talk. Rey went up to her bedroom after finishing the dishes, and Kylo loomed awkwardly from the doorway between the kitchen and dining room while he waited for it to be over. Hux was infuriatingly smug as they walked out of the house to his car, which was parked in front of the mailbox.

 

“I knew I liked your mom,” he says, not even attempting to hide his pleased tone, as if the entire night hadn’t been at Kylo’s expense. “I’m glad I came tonight. Thanks for having me.”

 

Kylo growls quietly as they stop outside Hux’s car door. “At least one of us had fun.”

 

“Don’t pout, neither of us said anything _too_ embarrassing, it’s not like Leia pulled out your baby pictures for me to look through.” Kylo much prefers it when he’s in the position to tease Hux instead of the other way around; the smirk on Hux’s face is quickly driving him insane. “And at least now I know your intentions.”

 

“My intentions?”

 

“Sometimes you’re a bit difficult to read, I’ll admit. I’m glad that I’ve confirmed that you are indeed a pathetic, pining, puppy dog of a man.”

 

“As if you’re one to talk,” Kylo fires back, feeling his face grow warm again. 

 

“There’s no need to be defensive. It’s not like I’m using this against you. It was sweet, actually, watching you get flustered.” Hux is trying to get him out of his bad mood, latching onto the front of his shirt to pull him in for a kiss. Kylo tries to cling to his annoyance, but finds himself leaning into Hux’s chest all-too quickly. He really is a pathetic, pining, puppy dog of a man.

'

“Good night,” Hux says quietly, looking steadily into Kylo’s dark eyes. That look is incredibly grounding, for some reason. and Kylo, master of Never Meeting Anyone's Eyes, can look nowhere else. For a moment, Hux looks like he wants to say something else, but instead he just says “I’ll see you tomorrow.

 

“Tomorrow,” Kylo says, like a promise. He walks back to the house but sends one more look over his shoulder at Hux’s car as it turned the street corner. For someone so attuned to their emotions, Kylo had let his feelings for Hux sneak up on him until they were painfully obvious, an intoxicating force that had consumed every thought. Even the irritation he felt, which used to inspire flat out resentment in Kylo was now endearing. He'd never noticed before their first kiss how often his brain lead him back to a memory or thought of Hux, and now that he knew it was like he was hyper-aware of it. Every orange cat, every classical song, every sarcastic comment he heard or news article he came across on the internet, it always took him right back to Hux, and brought with it the unavoidable sensation of warmth in his chest, and worse yet the _hope_. Excitement, even. There were so many possibilities of a future with Hux, which was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.


	15. Chapter 15

Nearly the entire staff showed up at seven AM to see the unveiling of the new mural. It was the last week before winter break began, and the entire atmosphere of the school was more relaxed than usual. They huddled around in a large crowd, mostly dressed in ridiculous sweaters and holding onto Starbucks cups for dear life. Hux stood at the very front, trying to look reassuring when Kylo looked back at him. Kylo still felt a bit apprehensive about having all eyes on his every move, but ignored the cold tingles of anxiety as his clammy hands pulled down the curtain. The mural stretched out proudly on the wall, bold lines and vibrant colors. Kylo’s nerves were immediately drowned out by pride. He took a few steps back to get a proper look at the finished product, barely aware of the applause that had erupted at his back. Then Hux was at his side, smiling encouragingly at him, and no other praise seemed necessary.

 

Kylo shook a few hands and accepted some compliments, and then the crowd dispersed and he was left alone with the tarp spread out on the floor and a pile of tape that’d been stripped off the wall. He gathered up the remainder of his mess and made to leave, but Hux’s voice stopped him.

 

“Are you free tonight?” He kept his voice soft, despite the fact that the only other souls in the building had scattered to their classrooms. He was wearing a deep forest-green button up shirt, which complimented his eyes perfectly, and was likely the closest he was getting to dressing “festively”.

 

“Barring any tragedies, yes.” Kylo feels a little more stable with his home life. Enough so that he doesn’t feel like everything is just on the verge of total disaster. Right now it was several steps away from the edge, and that was as good as anyone could hope for when it came to his family.

 

“Good. I’d like to take you to dinner for doing such a nice job with the mural,” Hux says, as if he isn’t already paying Kylo for all the work. He managed not to look flustered when he said it. There was still an air of newness and awkwardness when it came to dates, or rather their approximation of dates. Usually it was just eating at Hux’s apartment, or sitting together at the café while separately working on their laptops. This would be the first time they actually went out somewhere since the night they’d gone to the burger joint. Kylo didn’t count that as a real date, though.

 

“Well?” Apparently he’d taken too long responding, his thoughts spinning out until he’d lost track of what he was thinking and what he was saying. Or not saying. In his mind, he’d already said yes and they’d moved on to another topic completely. Kylo blinked, trying to focus on the present.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yes?” Hux repeats, to confirm.

 

“Yes. When?”

 

“Let’s say seven. It’s a school night.” And with that, Hux turns and walks into the administrators’ office.

 

Kylo had made it a new habit of his to overanalyze every aspect of their relationship, as if he was incapable of just enjoying it for what it was. He needed to work on that, living in the moment instead of dissecting every second into its tiniest parts. For some reason, it felt like the only way to fully experience it, to soak up as much as possible. New York was feeling less and less like a home to return to, and more like a dreaded destination at the end of a brief pleasure trip.

 

The restaurant was very nice, definitely elevated from the likes of a place that offers a side of chili cheese fries at no extra charge every Tuesday. This felt less like a meal from Santa Fe and more like the four star places that Phasma demanded they go to in New York. There were three kinds of forks and a wine menu with nothing below $100 a bottle, with blood red tablecloths spread on expensive wooden tables and faux marble pillars along the walls. The lights were dimmed so that the dining room was barely visible, soft instrumental music creating a classy, intimate ambiance. Hux looked on in disgust as Kylo tore apart a beautiful medium rare 12 oz. steak with his teeth. He had endless remarks about how table manners were evidently not a priority, nor were proper conversational skills. Kylo responded by bluntly telling him that if he’d wanted all that, then he brought the wrong man to dinner.

 

Apparently Kylo’s behavior hadn’t been _too_ disgusting, because Hux still invited him back to his apartment and proceeded to kiss him ferociously as soon as they’d gotten in the doorway. He tangled his hands in Kylo’s hair--he always fixated immediately on his hair--and maneuvered them into the living room after Kylo managed to kick the door shut with his foot. After a good twenty minutes of kissing and touching on the couch, Hux drew back and fixed Kylo in a serious look that said he was about to completely kill the mood, and perhaps even piss him off.

 

“You know…you’re a very talented painter.” He says the words carefully.

 

Kylo grunts affirmatively. He knows in a general sense that he’s good at what he does. It doesn’t stop him from being unbearably self-conscious and unsure of himself anyway.

 

“There are probably plenty of galleries in this city that would happily hang your work. I’ve researched you online a couple times and you have more than enough connections and notoriety to be successful anywhere in the country, if you wanted, especially now that you’ve completed the mural at the school. It’ll be in the local news in the next couple days.”

 

“What are you proposing?” Kylo already knows where Hux is going with this, and he’s surprised that he of all people could be so optimistic. He should know better, Kylo was full of endless disappointments. Even though he knew his attachment to Hux and his family was growing with every passing day, he also knew that he would fuck it up in the end, he always found a way to ruin the good things that happened to him. Hux was supposed to be a realist, a borderline cynic, someone who would accept that Kylo was the type to run from his problems instead of putting in the work, and be okay with it when he left.

 

Kylo can feel the irritation and tension settling in the back of his neck, hot and acidic.

 

“You could move down here. Permanently. You _like_ it here,” he says it in the way that shows clearly that he means to say “you _belong_ here”. Hux’s expression is guarded, a little like Rey’s was when she’d first met Kylo.

 

Kylo felt nausea rolling in his gut at the words, at this situation. He couldn’t stop the fight that was about to happen, it was out of his hands now. Hux was picking at the frayed edges of a situation Kylo would like to avoid thinking about until the last possible minute. He was ruining the fragile illusion that everything was okay. He was asking for more than Kylo was willing to or capable of giving.

 

“What would you have me do?” He knows that when he gets well and truly worked up, it’s a terrifying sight. He doesn’t want to scare Hux, but he already knows his face is morphing. His mouth, which Hux had just been pressing his lips against, was twisting into a snarl, and his usually soft, glimmering brown eyes went jet black and cold, like a shark’s. “Just abandon everything I have in New York?”

 

“What exactly is it that you have there?” Hux challenges, rising to Kylo’s cold anger with his own fiery rage. “An empty studio and a manager who doesn’t so much care for you as much as the things you create. Santa Fe is a big city, you could just as easily work here—“

 

“I _can’t_ stay here,” Kylo growls, as if it’s obvious. “I’m leaving. In January I’m going back.”

 

“I’m not saying you can’t go back for that exhibit, I’m saying that afterward you could come back here. Live closer to your family, to Rey who looks up to you against all rational thought, and your workaholic mother who’s not getting any younger.” _And to me_ , he doesn’t say. He doesn’t have to.

 

“What’s the point?” Kylo says, his voice a mixture of anger and desperation, like he’s trying but failing to reconcile the tug of war that continues to rage on inside of him. Hux looks at him like he’s being an idiot, but also with pity. He’s just trying to help, but Kylo won’t accept it. “My family has been dysfunctional for as long as I can remember, and this won’t change it. Rey was always going to do better in school, and Leia was always going to stay home and be there for Han. I’m just a crutch for them to lean on until he finally dies.” Those words were harder and harder to believe in when he could _see_ the impact he’d had by coming back, the way his family was trying to fix itself like he’d never seen before. They had fully embraced him, and now it felt less like he was inserting himself in places he didn’t belong, and more like he’d regained the limb he’d amputated himself. He felt whole.

 

Hux frowned deeply, making his entire expression suddenly very severe and mean. “Do you know how lucky you are?” His eyes are sad, so painfully sad, despite the rest of his face and body screaming _fury_. “I would _kill_ to be in your position.”

 

“You hated your dad,” Kylo says dismissively, and looking at Hux’s face makes him immediately regret the words. Hadn’t he said before that he didn’t understand Kylo’s situation? That wouldn’t have even bothered showing up, and instead let his father die alone?

 

“I did.” Hux nods his head in agreement, his voice suddenly quiet and bitter. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t always wish it would be different. I spent most of my young life trying everything I could to win his love. And if I ever had, I would’ve immediately forgiven him for not being proud of me before, for not showing me any affection, for telling me I couldn’t cry at my own mother’s funeral. _Appearances,_ you know.” Hux’s brows draw together in frustration.

 

“None of that would’ve mattered anymore if he had just accepted me as his son. But he didn’t. He never loved me, he loved my mother. I was just a reminder of what he’d lost, a child he’d never wanted in the first place.” He shakes his head. “If I had your family, and I was in your shoes, I wouldn’t hesitate. I would embrace this opportunity. Not all of us have the luxury of rejecting a family that wants them.”

 

Kylo ruminated in Hux’s words. For the life of him, he couldn’t seem to let go of New York. He also couldn’t forget the past, all the nights he’d spent lying in bed, wondering what he’d done wrong that made his parents love him less than all the other kids’ parents loved them, all the fights that left him with a sore throat the next day at school, feeling hollowed out and half-aware of his surroundings, just waiting for someone to set him off. All the times he’d left home and stumbled pathetically into the public library, turning to Hux for comfort because he could not for the life of him think of anything or anyone else that could possibly help him. He’d tried to numb himself with alcohol at 17 and all that did was ruin vodka forever. All those years of hurt had left deep scars in Kylo, and even the too-good-to-be-true future that was right within his grasp couldn’t help him heal. Maybe he didn’t _want_ to heal. Maybe he just didn’t know how. Maybe he’d never learn how.

 

Kylo thought about it all, silently, and then he left without another word, rising from the couch and marching for the door with only the clunk of his boots on the wood floors to fill the space between him and Hux. He would let their argument hang in suspense for now, let their words fester in the silence until it would undoubtedly become another problem to deal with. Hux should know just as well as anyone by now that Kylo wouldn’t change. No amount of familial bonding, or passionate kissing, or nostalgic memories would fix him. Some things were so deep-seated that they became a permanent part of a personality. Kylo couldn’t suddenly become what most would consider a well-adjusted man just like he couldn’t change his height. He could pretend, crouch a little. Say he’s 5’11”. It wouldn’t change the truth. He was bound and determined to be miserable and alone forever.

 

Kylo walked down the stairs and out to the Camino, and Hux didn’t follow him. He drove home without any particular regard for the street signs or speed limits. These kinds of fights were the worst, the kinds where you had to face painful truths. In the end, you just felt numb and lost. Kylo parked on the street outside his house and turned on the radio. He still remembered his old favorite station, the one that played all the intense, grungy guitar and melancholy vocals.[ A familiar song crackled on](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ufxdY6qv50), and Kylo cranked up the volume until the bass was rattling in his teeth, and then he laid his head on the steering wheel and willed himself to keep it together. One more month.

 

* * *

 

 

More bad news was in store for Kylo in the next few days. Leia announced tensely that Luke would be down from Colorado for Christmas, he’d arrive in town on the 23rd. She was right to be apprehensive about his return, his and Kylo’s relationship had deteriorated from affectionate to abysmal over the course of his high school years, culminating in a huge fight that had finally inspired Kylo to move out and never look back. Luke used to be one of the only people Kylo felt like he could come to with anything, but Luke’s allegiance to Han and Leia above all meant that he always came second. He’d picked their side, had left Kylo completely alone on his, and that had been the final straw. Kylo was committed to sticking it out for this last month before the exhibit. He would keep his mouth shut, focus on finishing his final painting, and then it was all a matter of when Han finally dropped dead. When Leia told him, worry etched into every fine line on her face, he’d swallowed the news and grunted in response, heading up the stairs as if she’s just told him it might rain later.

 

Rey could sense the beginnings of tension in the house, so she did her best to distract Kylo with traditional Christmas traditions such as making a gingerbread house, or taking her out to a lot to pick out a tree, and then decorating the tree with miscellaneous ornaments, some of which he’d made as a child, and sitting through all the disturbing Claymation specials on TV. It worked, for the most part. Kylo still felt a constant strain in his shoulders, a dull headache that threatened to become a full-blown migraine. It didn’t help that he wasn’t very satisfied with his last painting, nor that he was painfully aware that this was his father’s last Christmas.

 

On the 22nd, Kylo left the house in a desperate bid to get the restlessness out of his system. Eventually, he drove to a shopping strip and attempted to find gifts for his family. Kylo had always been a miserable shopper, he didn’t have the stamina for it. Leia on the other hand was brilliant at getting exactly what everyone had asked for, Han was more the type to just offer money to get whatever you wanted with, and well, Kylo tried his best. He ended up buying Leia a necklace that he was almost positive she would never wear, a pack of thick socks for Han’s poorly circulated feet in addition to a thick sweater for him to lounge around in, and for Rey he decided on a fancy travel journal that had a small map of the world inside it. The soft leather cover said “Adventure Awaits” in pretty blue script.

 

Luke’s initial arrival actually _didn’t_ ignite a fight like Kylo thought it might. In fact, the two mostly avoided each other, and that seemed to work. Rey adored Luke, and Kylo was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. He could be kind and understanding, and had a vast array of terrible jokes and interesting stories to tell that endeared him to practically anyone he met. Rey was good natured but fierce, and always ready and willing to hear a joke, which made her the ideal companion. With Chewie and Amilyn hanging around, Kylo could allow himself to be lost in the shuffle without anyone noticing.

 

On Christmas Eve, they had a family-and-friends gathering. Chewie, Amilyn, Maz, Poe, Finn, Rose, and Han’s friend Lando were all coming, along with several other guests that Kylo didn’t recognize nor did he particularly care about. Leia encouraged Kylo to invite Hux too, but he didn’t think it was even worth asking. They hadn’t spoken since their argument, and Kylo seriously doubted a party was the way to mend their relationship. The family spent the day cleaning: scrubbing the bathroom, vacuuming the carpets, and hiding all the clutter upstairs where the guests wouldn’t find it. Leia enlisted Kylo’s help in the kitchen, utilizing his long arms and young eyes for grabbing dishes from high shelves and reading recipes with tiny print. With their combined efforts, everything was clean and ready by the time guests were arriving.

 

The first half of the evening was a little awkward, but mostly normal. Rey was practically glowing with happiness as she and her friends sat around the living room floor with their plates to eat while they played board games, while the adults all milled around and helped themselves to cocktails from the kitchen. Kylo floated from room to room, periodically called over to engage in a conversation with Lando, or to give his opinion on a topic that Maz and someone else Kylo didn’t know were debating. He went through the motions of each interaction, attempting to be as innocuous as possible. Then Luke sidled up to him, seemingly out of nowhere. Some of the family resemblances were glaringly obvious, like their tendency to walk silently.

 

“Mind if I talk to you for a minute?”

 

Kylo felt trapped, unable to say no. He shrugged.

 

Luke led him a little ways away from the rest of the party, which set even Kylo even more on edge.

 

“How are things going?” he asks.

 

“Fine,” Kylo responds robotically. “Mom’s taken the reigns as usual, and we’re following up with the specialists on—“

 

“No, Ben,” Luke says, waving his hand to cut him off. “I mean how are things going with _you?_ ”

 

“Fine,” Kylo says again.

 

“You’ve seemed distant since I got here. Is it because of me?”

 

Kylo feels irritation ignite purely from the way Luke is looking at him. Like he’s _concerned_. If he was so worried about Kylo’s wellbeing, he never would have turned his back on him when he’d needed him at 17, a closeted, severely depressed kid who felt like he had no one else. Han and Leia had been dismissive of his problems, they’d pretended that it was normal to never want to get out of bed, or to isolate yourself for weeks at a time. He’d confided in Luke about so many things, and then Luke had turned around and told Kylo’s parents everything, all under the guise of _concern_.

 

“Of course it’s because of you,” he says, perfectly calm. It’s an act, anyone who knows Kylo knows that he’s most dangerous when he appears calm. In reality he’s one wrong step away from snapping, and when he did it was going to be a doozy.

 

“Ben…” Luke’s brows draw together, and he looks a little defeated and tired, like he wishes he could do anything to make things right, but knows he can’t. He sighs. “I’m sorry about how things turned out because of my actions. You came to me in confidence, and I betrayed your trust.”

 

They stood there for a solid minute, staring at each other, until Kylo felt his resolve crack. “What? You think I’m going to stand here and dispute you? Do you think I’ll forgive you and say that it was my fault too? That I shouldn’t have left?” He already knows that his volume is rising to the point of the other guests looking over at them, but he’s helpless to stop himself. “I’m not going to forgive you. Not now, or ever. You were the last thing keeping me tied to this place, and you showed me that even _you_ couldn’t put me above your obligation to your friends. There _should_ be a consequence for your actions, you _should_ feel shitty about it.”

 

There was a tangible silence in the house now. People were frozen in place, looking on at the spectacle Kylo was creating. He didn’t care.

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Ben,” Luke protested, desperate to be understood. “I knew how much hurt you were going through, and I thought that maybe if I could talk to your parents, that they’d listen to me and we could all move on together, that we could help you as a family.”

 

“But that’s not what happened, is it?!” Kylo shouted, his voice suddenly jumping to its highest volume. In the corner of his eye he could see some of the onlookers flinch at it. “You told them, and they turned on me. They were angry that I hadn’t told them, and then they were angry because I couldn’t just be _normal!_ ” The pain felt fresh and new all over again. Kylo can still remember the sting of that fight, the mixture of hurt and anger and betrayal and disappointment that had swirled and churned into a full-on hurricane of screaming and insults and swearing. That night, Kylo had tossed random possessions haphazardly into a suitcase stormed out, stayed at a motel 6 for the night, and bought a bus ticket the next morning.

 

“That’s enough,” Leia says in a warning tone. Kylo rounds on her then, almost ready to start a family-style brawl in the middle of this Christmas Eve party, but then he glances at the doorway into the living room and sees Rey, sees the fear on her face. He looks back at Luke with a scowl, and then makes for the door, slamming it shut behind him.

 

Kylo doesn’t take one of the cars, he just shoves his hands into deep his pockets and walks into the unusually cold night. His feet carry him blocks and blocks until he’s back at the park. By the time he arrives in the center, completely alone and shrouded in the trees and shrubs, Kylo pulls out his phone and dials the most recent number.

 

“Hello?” Hux’s voice isn’t annoyed or sleepy, just its usual tone and timber. Kylo can’t believe how much he’s missed it in the short week he’s been without it.

 

“Can you talk?”

 

There’s a pause, and for a second Kylo thinks Hux hung up on him. “Depends. Will you just shut down and leave again if I do?”

 

“No.”

 

Another pause. “Are you alright? You sound _off._ ”

 

“No.” Kylo repeats, feeling his resolve waver. He suddenly feels just as alone as he had when he arrived over two months ago, he might’ve just ruined any progress he’d made with his family, and he still couldn’t get Rey’s face out of his head.

 

“Where are you?”

 

“Park.” Kylo kicks a rock and watches it skid into the darkness.

 

“Hang on. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

 

Kylo doesn’t have time to argue, the line goes dead before he can say another word. That’s all it took to get Hux back. Or maybe he’d never even lost him in the first place.

 

Maybe that meant there was still hope for his family after all.


	16. Chapter 16

Hux pulled up to the curb with an unreadable expression that made Kylo suddenly nervous. Maybe he had been too quick to think that just because he was willing to pick him up from the park it meant that Hux had forgiven him. He climbed into the passenger seat with a mumbled “thanks” and they drove on in silence. When they pulled into the small parking lot in front of his building, Hux finally turned to Kylo.

 

“My requirements for you staying here are as follows,” he says, his glove-clad fingers curling and uncurling around the steering wheel, “We are going to talk about this, not just whatever happened tonight, but also the things you and I talked about last time, and you will go home first thing tomorrow to sort things out with your family. If you don’t think you’ll be able to do either of those things, then I can drop you off at a motel. Deal?"

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yes you’ll talk? Or yes you want to be a stubborn ass and spend the night in a moldy room by yourself?”

 

“I’ll talk,” Kylo says, meeting his gaze, even though the shadows have almost completely swallowed up the sharp contours of his face and it’s hard to make out his eyes. The car has its own little climate, a bubble of smoldering warmth amidst a sea of cold blackness. The light from the apartment building catches on the red of Hux’s hair, but the rest of him was cast in shades of grey. For a brief moment, Kylo had the strong urge to paint a portrait of Hux just like that. He was the perfect color palette.

 

They walk up to the apartment, but this time there isn’t the usual kissing when they go inside, disappointingly. Hux dumps his keys on a table be the door and shrugs off his coat, then disappears into the kitchen. Kylo shuffles after him, peeling his own jacket off his arms as he goes. Hux sets up the kettle on the stove while Kylo pulls out a chair at the kitchen table with a loud scrape.

 

“So,” Hux says, turning around and gripping the counter on either side of him as he leans back against it. “What happened?”

 

The words spill out of Kylo like he’s throwing them up. It’s intense and violent for him to relive, and he keeps retching up little scraps after most of it is out in the air. He feels empty once he finishes the recounting; explaining his relationship to Luke, how that had all gone to shit at the end of senior year, and how they’d confronted one another at the party tonight. He also mentions Leia’s anger and Rey’s fear. The more he thought about it, the worse he felt that he had probably ruined the good mood for everyone. His actions had consequences, he’d hurt people he cared about.

 

Instead of just being stern and angry, like Kylo thought he might be, Hux launched into a perfect speech composed of exactly what Kylo needed to hear, about how he had the power and choice of what he let control him, whether that be his past, his emotions, or other people. Yes, the things that had happened to him were terrible and sad, but they were over with now, he’d already lived through them, survived them. What he needed to do was decide how he wanted to live here, in the present. Kylo had the power to make life what he wanted it to be. If he so chose, he could always be the person that ruined parties and felt miserable, or he could be the person who held himself in check and allowed for the possibility of forward progression and healing. Sure, the process of mending old wounds could be difficult and painful, but Kylo was more than strong enough to do it. And he’d feel better if he did. Hux’s tone throughout was equal parts encouraging and chastising, and Kylo wanted nothing more than to kiss him in that moment, but he knew they had a ways to go before that was even a possibility.

 

Hux gave him an earl grey tea with lemon and honey and they moved on to their last argument. Kylo apologized first and foremost for leaving. Hux accepted his apology immediately, because he’d probably forgiven him almost as soon as Kylo had left. They touched on Kylo’s obvious issue with the thought of moving home.

 

“I didn’t mean to sound pushy. I genuinely think you would benefit from being closer to your family. I’ve watched you fight yourself every step of the way for the past two months, I think it’s time you came to the logical conclusion.”

 

“I’m scared.” It’s almost a whisper, barely audible. Hux took a few surprised moments to process it the admission.

 

“Sometimes it’s worth it to let your guard down,” he says, and Kylo looks back up from his tea into Hux’s eyes.

 

“How has it worked out for you?” He doesn’t mean it as a jab. Hux is a lot like him, putting up walls and barriers between himself and anything that posed a threat. Kylo genuinely wanted to know how experiences with trusting people had gone for him.

 

“I don’t know,” he says, both hands curved around his cup. “I think it’s going alright so far.” The meaning is unmistakable, the way his eyes don’t leave Kylo’s.

 

“Do you think I should talk about this with them?” Kylo says, instead of commenting on what Hux said.

 

“It’s up to you. I might wait until you’ve decided, though. Wouldn’t want to get their hopes up if you’re just going to choose to stay in New York.” Kylo nods.

 

“I’ll try to give this my full consideration,” he says, because even if this would be difficult he wanted to think it over. And he remembered how sad Hux had looked when he said he would kill to be in Kylo’s position. He owes it to him to at least try.

 

“That’s all I’m asking,” Hux says.

 

Kylo feels that being with Hux is a lot like falling down the stairs; suddenly plunging into even deeper affection and attachment, when just a second before he thought he knew exactly how much he cared for him. He was reaching new levels of _too far gone_ with every new time he saw him. And every time he looked at him, he noticed a new thing to like. Was this what falling in love felt like? It wasn’t exciting like all the movies and songs tried to frame it, it was disorienting and incremental, building up over time until it completely overwhelmed you.

 

“What’s wrong with your face?” Hux asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Nothing,” Kylo says.

 

* * *

 

 

Kylo was rudely kicked out of bed on Christmas morning. He hit the floor with a resounding _thunk_ , and groaned drowsily as he sat up and tried to remember where he was and what had just happened.

 

“Get up,” Hux said, eyeing him from his spot in the bed, sitting upright with the blankets still draped over his lap. Kylo blinks blearily up at him. Instead of listening, he takes in Hux’s absolutely disastrous bedhead, and the way the collar of his shirt is tugged down to expose a hickey from last night.

 

“What?”

 

“You need to go home and talk to your family.”

 

Oh, that. Kylo laid back down on the floor and closed his eyes, mentally bracing himself for what was waiting for him. He would much prefer to ignore his problems and spend the day with Hux.

 

“Get up. Get dressed. I’m driving you back.” Hux swings himself out of bed and stomps over to his closet to start rifling around for an outfit. Kylo rolls into an upright position and starts groping around for his clothes from last night.

 

Christmas morning in New York was just as crazy and hectic as any other day, the streets still packed with cars and people. In Santa Fe, it was less so. As Hux drove Kylo home, he could see all closed storefronts, empty parking lots, and vacant roads. It felt like time had stopped, or like they were the only two people left on earth, both thoughts oddly comforting. Time was not frozen, and they were certainly not the last people on earth. Much too quickly, they arrived in front of Kylo’s house, and he was forced to face relaity. He unclipped his seat-belt but leaned over to kiss Hux instead of getting out. Hux allowed it, but only for a moment before he pushed Kylo back.

 

“Go.”

 

“Merry Christmas,” Kylo mutters, halfheartedly annoyed.

 

Hux rolls his eyes. “If you can get through your family drama, maybe you can come back to my place later.”

 

“I’ll try,” Kylo says, quickly adding, “I have something for you.”

 

“Then call me after this has blown over. Now go. Shoo.”

 

Kylo reluctantly got out of the car and dragged his feet all the way to the front door. When he got inside, the lights were all on. Perhaps on any other day the family would be sleeping, but it was Christmas morning. Of course everyone was already awake. Since Han was still in the back of the house in bed, Kylo was able to walk in unnoticed at first. He heard Christmas songs carrying over the radio from the kitchen, and Rey and Leia’s voices mingling with the bangs of pots and clatter of dishes. He tried to make for the stairs, but then the voices suddenly stopped. When he turned back towards the kitchen, Rey was standing in the doorway, frozen.

 

“Ben,” she said, and he felt even worse than he had last night. Rey looked tired, like she hadn’t slept at all last night. “We thought maybe you left.” Her voice was soft, sad. She wasn’t particularly excited to see him, and he realized it was because he could just be back to collect his things.

 

“I’m not leaving,” he says. The relief on Rey’s face makes his chest ache.

 

“Oh, well…we’re making breakfast. Would you go wake up Han?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Han was always grumpy first thing in the morning, and holidays were no different. He grumbled and groaned as Kylo helped him get dressed, then shuffled into the en suite bathroom while Kylo stood at the door to make sure he didn’t collapse while he was in there.

 

“I heard what you did last night, kid,” Han says as he shuffles back into the room. Kylo takes his arm to steer him towards the living room.

 

“Where’s Luke?”

 

“Went to stay with Am, said he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable in your own home. Some load of crap like that. We exchanged gifts last night so he won’t have to come over today.”

 

Kylo ignored the guilt in the pit of his stomach and guided Han to his recliner, which put him right in the perfect vantage point in front of the tree. He leaned back and put up the footrest with a deep sigh.

 

“Your mom’s pretty fired up. Better get in there and face the music.”

 

Kylo sighs too, and heads for the kitchen. Rey had apparently disappeared to some other part of the house while he went to fetch Han. Leia stood alone in the room, the radio now quieter than before. For a tiny woman, she could be really fucking scary. Kylo towered over her, but make no mistake, he was scared.

 

“What the hell were you thinking?”

 

“I wasn’t.”

 

“No, you weren’t. Look, I know there are things that you and Luke need to sort through. There are things that we need to sort through too. But a party full of people is not the place. You embarrassed us all, and you ruined Rey’s little get together. She worried over you all night.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Kylo says, instead of pointing out that their guests were all probably accustomed to their drama and theatrics by now. He doesn’t apologize often, and even now, when he’s sincere, it tastes bitter on his tongue.

 

Leia’s mouth is still pressed in a hard line as her eyes sweep over him.

 

“You came back. That’s what matters. We really will have a problem though if you pull another stunt like that. Got it?”

 

“Got it.”

 

Kylo feels relieved, even though this is only the first step towards fixing the problems in his family. It was a pathetic baby step at that. Realistically, it would probably take years to make any real progress. At least for now the tension from last night was evaporating, and he could breathe a little easier. He knew he’d eventually have to face Luke again, but that was a bridge to cross another day.

 

“Good. No go wash up, breakfast’s almost ready.”

 

The rest of the morning went fine. The food was good, and Rey seemed to finally shake off her nerves, and gradually replaced it with her typical cheerful demeanor. They gathered around the tree afterwards, like Kylo remembered from his childhood. He sat on the floor with Rey and watched her tear into different packages. Most of them were sweaters and scarves and brand new soccer equipment, but eventually she came across a larger box and ripped away the shiny blue wrapping paper to reveal fancy telescope. Leia and Han smirked from their respective perches on the couch and chair.

 

“You actually got it! Thank you!” Rey flashed her brilliant smile at them before turning back around and busily clearing away the rest of the paper. Kylo scooted closer to her to get a better look at the box.

 

“You got me interested in stars from our car conversations, so I asked for this,” Rey explains when she catches Kylo’s confused expression. “Maybe one night you can help me stargaze? I still need to learn all the constellations.”

 

Kylo stares at her for a little too long, aware that their parents are watching them. He nods his head, unable to form proper words. Instead, he grabs her last present, and tosses it at her. “Here.”

 

All the presents go over better than expected. Leia’s and Han’s reactions are as muted but appreciative as Kylo had expected, but maybe a bit more genuine than he’d thought they’d be, but that didn’t compare to Rey’s reaction to her journal. She looked like she might even hug Kylo for a second, and he was glad she decided against it. He couldn’t handle this much emotion at once. As for himself, Leia had bought Kylo and extremely nice set of brushes, maybe even finer a quality than what he used in New York, as well as an array of shirts that weren’t black, but colors that he’d still be willing to wear. Han, predictably, gave him a hundred dollar bill tucked into a corny Hallmark card that played jingle bells when you opened it. Finally, Rey handed him a large envelope with a red bow stuck on the cover. Inside was a sheet of water color paper, and on the paper was a beautiful night sky with salt sprinkled over it to create the stars. The paper was crinkled and warped from the paint soaking through and drying. Kylo smiled crookedly at Rey and thanked her, and she stared back in shock before a slow smile spread across her own face. In the same moment he realized that it was the first time he’d ever actually smiled at her.

 

With things more or less returned to normal, Kylo allowed himself to relax. He helped Rey put the telescope together in her room, then went back downstairs so Leia could hold open a garbage sack while he gathered up all the tissue and ribbon and paper off the floor. As evening drew near, he called Hux to let him know that he hadn’t fought a single relative, and that they’d made it through the day without getting at each other’s throats. Hux sarcastically congratulated him.

 

“Come over then,” he says. “If you think you can get away without a fuss.”

 

That wasn’t a problem. Leia and Han fully embraced and endorsed Kylo spending time with Hux. It was such an improvement to barricading himself in his room all the time. He seemed happier to them, and maybe that was true, not that he wanted them to point that out. Leia smiled knowingly as Kylo hefted a box under his arm before he slunk out into the driveway.

 

“ _God_ ,” Hux said once he opened his door and saw Kylo standing there with his windswept hair and donning his old leather jacket, “how did you somehow get more attractive than the last time I saw you?” He managed to make the compliment sound like a complaint, but Kylo took it anyway.

 

“Here,” he says, pressing the box into Hux’s chest. They sat down on the couch together, with the box placed between them. It was plain and unwrapped, generic cardboard with only a lid covering its contents. Hux slipped off the lid and started rummaging through. The first thing he pulled out was the old green jacket, faded and too small to fit either of them, then he moved on to a pack of new ballpoint pens, and then delicately wrapped teacup with a matching saucer. On the outside, it was beautifully decorated with blue and gold, but the inside read “kindly fuck off” in elegant black script, which made Hux audibly snort. Next was a plastic bag of catnip for Millicent, and finally an old folder filled with crumpled, dog-eared loose paper.

 

“Okay, I understand the rest of this stuff, but…” Hux flips though the weathered old pages, “what the hell is this?”

 

“I found it in the bottom of one of the old boxes. It’s all our old school projects. The ones we did together, at least.”

 

“And you didn’t immediately throw these out because...?”

 

"Just look," Kylo shrugs, moving the box down to the floor so that he can invade Hux’s personal space. Millicent has come over to investigate, rubbing against the box when she smells the catnip inside. Kylo pulls one of the papers out a turns it over. There, scribbled all over the back, were little notes between them. Most of it was just the back and forth of Hux’s pretty cursive and Kylo’s forceful print as they decided how they were going to tackle a particular assignment, but sometimes Kylo’s words had an angry slash drawn through them, with “this is a rubbish idea, Solo” scrawled beside them. All the papers were like that, little exchanges between them, insignificant memories that now felt like they had added up to something significant.

 

Hux seemed to catch on to why Kylo had brought the pages over, and silently the two of them went through the entire thick folder. Most of it was boring, just them dividing up the work on a PowerPoint presentation, but occasionally they’d come across something amusing, like one page where Kylo had gotten frustrated and completely inked out all of Hux’s words with a black sharpie. Sometimes they brought up specific little memories, which were mostly of them antagonizing the everloving shit out of each other. It felt fond now, reminiscing over the petty things that had had them convinced they’d never get along. How wrong they were.

 

“Do you think I could make any money off of this if you signed it?” asks Hux, holding up a sheet of notebook paper with a small doodle in the corner of a human eye, and scrunched up beside it a misshapen hand.

 

“Only once I die,” Kylo says.

 

“Rats.”

 

They eventually put the pile of pages back into the folder and laid back on the couch as Hux turned the TV on. All the cheesy Christmas movies were on, including a 24 hour marathon of _Love, Actually_. Hux left it on and leaned into Kylo’s side as they halfway-paid attention to it.

 

A small voice in the back of Kylo’s head reminded him that he could have days like this all the time. All he had to do was stay.


	17. Chapter 17

The air is mostly cleared at home, but that doesn’t stop Kylo from being stressed out. In addition to the passing weeks constantly reminding him of Han’s impending death, the painting is not going well at all, and the deadline is steadily creeping closer. Already, Kylo had covered the initial paint with a second layer, then a third, desperately trying to fix his mistakes. It looked like a muddled mess at this point, the reds and white and greys all overlapping and blending. Acrylics were usually forgiving of mistakes, so long as you waited for the paint to dry before you went over it with another layer. Kylo had at first, but soon he was making mistakes too frequently and became too impatient to wait, and just smeared black right over red until all of it was a grungy brown. Not only was the painting quickly becoming a lost cause, Hux had been too busy to see him lately. Winter break was almost over, and it was on his shoulders to ensure that the beginning of the spring semester went smoothly. Kylo didn’t do well by himself, he got too much in his own head until his perceptions were warped.

 

One day, completely at random, Kylo was in the garage, trying to cover up his latest mistake, when a sudden rage came over him. From where, he wasn’t exactly sure. To his knowledge, he hadn’t been bottling anything up or tamping anything down, in fact he’d been talking about his feelings more frequently these days than he ever had before. That didn’t stop him from putting his fist clean through the canvas and the easel behind it. Wood splintered against his knuckles, bloodying them. He stared in horror and anger at what he’d done for a moment, and then he kicked the broken easel over and stomped it into a pile of irredeemable bits, then picked the canvas up and tore it completely apart with his hands. He hadn’t noticed he was screaming in frustration as he did this until Rey burst into the room, looking panicked.

 

“Are you okay…?” She looks down slowly at the absolute mess that lay at Kylo’s feet, then at Kylo himself, panting and poised to look for something new to destroy. He stares back at her and shrugs, for lack of any explanation. She doesn’t look scared of him, but deeply concerned.

 

Kylo lowers his eyes to the floor at the ruins of his third painting and feels his shoulders drop. The fight leaves his body, and then he’s just left feeling empty. How was he supposed to start over now? He didn’t have the time, he needed to be finished within the next few weeks if he wanted to make the exhibition. Maybe he could plead with Phasma over the phone, explain what had happened and beg her to enter him with two pieces instead of three. He couldn’t complete a triptych, but maybe the two completed paintings would be enough—

 

“Ben?” Rey had suddenly materialized at his side, gingerly pushing around the bits and pieces with her foot. Kylo releases a shaky breath and begins looking for the broom. He nudges Rey out of the way and sweeps everything up, then dumps it unceremoniously into the garbage can. Rey stands there and watches him silently get rid of what he’d been putting his heart and soul into for the past several weeks.

 

“Come on,” she says, suddenly assertive. “Ben, _come on_.” He looks over at her, making her way back to the doorway with her arm waving him over.

 

“What?”

 

“Come on. We’re going to the art store.”

 

“Rey—“

 

“No arguing,” she says, perfectly mirroring Leia’s take-charge personality. “We’re going. Come on.”

 

Kylo follows her back through the house and out the front door, then slowly climbs into the Camino and starts heading for the art supply store. Rey seems to understand that Kylo wants quiet, so she doesn’t try talking on the trip there. Together they trek through the winding aisles of the store, and Kylo robotically gathers a new canvas and easel. Rey watches him quietly as he pays for his replacements, the cashier either being smart or polite enough to not mention Kylo's bloody hand to him. Once they cross the parking lot and get back into the Camino, Kylo begins to turn the key in the ignition, but Rey reaches out a hand to stop him.

 

“It’s okay, you know,” she says quietly. “It’s okay if you’re not okay.”

 

Kylo feels pressure building up behind his eyes but he already knows the tears won’t come. He hasn’t cried once after learning the news about Han, and he’s not starting now.

 

“It was nothing,” he says, in reference to the mini-meltdown she’d born witness to.

 

“I know that it must be difficult, having to see your dad like this.” Rey looks down at her hands, folded in her lap. “And then you’ve been working so hard on your paintings. No one would hold it against you if you admitted you aren’t exactly handling it well.”

 

“What about you?” Kylo asks, trying to steer the conversation away from himself.

 

Rey laughs, but it sounds funny. A little too much like a sob. “Me? Oh, I’m a wreck.” She reaches up and wipes a stray tear away. “I’m just trying to focus on the time we have left. It’s hard, it’s really hard. You know, I’ve…I’ve been in the foster system for a long time. My parents left me at an orphanage when I was seven. I was quite young, but still old enough to remember it. They just drove away, didn’t look back once.” Her words are unadorned, no hint of self-pity in them. “I lived in an orphanage until I was 10, and then my first foster parents took me in. That, um…it turned out to be a bad match for everyone. They just wanted a kid so they could get the government money out of it.

 

“And then, one day, Leia and Han showed up. They paid attention to me, they gave me a room, and filled it with books I liked and clothes that fit. I slept on a real bed on a bedframe, not a dirty mattress on a cot, not an air mattress on the floor…a bed. They’re the only real parents I’ve ever known. If someone asked me to try to remember what my biological ones looked like…I don’t think I could recall. It’s only been three years, but it feels like I’ve had them my whole life. And now that Han is…” she takes a slow, shuddering breath, trying to hold back her tears. “Now that he’s sick, it’s like I’m being left all over again. Does that make sense?”

 

Kylo stares dumbly at her for several minutes before he nods. He’s got abandonment issues, too, but they simply don’t compare to what Rey has faced.

 

“I’m sure it must be worse for you. You’ve known him your whole life.”

 

“Not really,” Kylo admits, the words feeling thick and heavy on his tongue. “You already know that we’ve had a bad relationship. I doubt we’ll ever have a very close relationship now.”

 

“Do you wish you did?”

 

“Sometimes,” he says, looking out at the vacant parking lot. On a Sunday afternoon, the art supply store is hardly bustling with business. “Most of the time I just don’t think about it.” Or try not to. A silence settles between them for a solid minute before Rey speaks up again.

 

“Are you really leaving in January?”

 

“For the exhibition, yes.”

 

“And after that?”

 

“I still don’t know.” Kylo turns the key, and this time Rey doesn’t stop him. They head back for the house, so Kylo can go into the garage and try to think of a way to begin a new piece from scratch.

 

“Do you… _like_ Hux?” Rey asks, unable to let things be quiet for long. “You know what I mean?”

 

“Yes,” Kylo says, not mistaking her meaning. She was smart girl, it would worry him if she somehow hadn’t realized that their feelings for each other went beyond friendship. And lately it’d been harder and harder to hide the bite marks on his neck with the collars of his shirts.

 

“I think I might like girls,” Rey blurts out. “I mean, I’ve been suspicious that you are attracted to men for a while, but I wasn’t sure. It kind of made me start thinking about myself, because I guess I've always known I didn't like boys, or at least I didn't like _just_ boys. Lately, I’ve been noticing other girls in my classes, and…they’re so pretty. And I stare at them too much. I don’t think it’s the normal, friendly kind of staring.”

 

“That’s okay,” Kylo says, not at all expecting their conversation to take such a sharp detour from discussing Han’s failing health. “I started noticing boys in high school too, like you’re noticing girls.” And, despite knowing his parents would be beyond okay with their son’s sexuality, he’d bottled that shit up for the next three years. Kylo was more scared of himself than he was of what his parents thought. He was afraid of what it meant for his life, which was already a swirling shit-storm all on its own. It figured that he’d have an “atypical” sexuality on top of it all.

 

Of course, over the progression of adulthood, Kylo learned that sexuality really mattered very little in the grand scheme of things. Paying rent, having health insurance, and owning a working car mattered a lot more than who you were kissing. It was nothing to be afraid of, and certainly not anything to be ashamed of. Truth be told, there really wasn’t anything to do about it, except let it be. After coming to terms with it, it just became another trait that made you up as a person. Kylo: brown eyes, shoe size 13, ambidextrous, gay.

 

He also knew, of course, that being 14 and realizing that your attraction is not the same as most of your peers felt like the end of the world. He’d been through it himself.

 

“It’s just…a little scary. I mean, I haven’t even really thought about whether or not I like boys, too.”

 

“You’ll figure it out eventually.” That was the truth. It was sometimes tortuous to figure yourself out over the course of years. Sometimes it took going through a few painfully awkward dates to make you realize what you truly wanted. Kylo had been on exactly two dates with girls, and they were both awful. The experience was different for everyone, though. Maybe it wouldn’t take Rey years, but the next few months to learn what she needed to know about herself. Maybe it would take even longer than it had taken Kylo.

 

Rey sighs. “Yeah, I guess so. I haven’t told anyone else. Not because I don’t trust my friends and Han and Leia to be supportive, I’m just still really unsure about it all.”

 

“You can talk to me about it,” Kylo says. He thinks about himself at 14, and how much an older sibling or some kind of mentor would have helped. If he could be that for Rey, then he’d listen to all her jumbled thoughts and guesses and her awkward crushes.

 

“Okay,” she replies shyly.

 

They pull into the driveway and part ways in silence. Kylo goes into the garage and feels more at ease after talking to Rey. She showed him Han and Leia through her eyes, and Kylo didn’t know why but hearing the way she felt about them smoothed out some of the resentment he’d still been holding onto. After assembling the new easel and placing the clean canvas on it, he reached for his red paint. Then he stopped himself, and opened the green instead. For some reason, something in his mind was drawing him to the subdued greens and greys of a forest, hazel eyes, and faded brown leather jackets.

 

* * *

 

 

New Year’s Eve comes and goes without much notice. They set off some party poppers and let Rey drink a very small cup of champagne, and then it was back to business as usual. Hux was available again after the new semester began, albeit still very stressed about the way things were going. He spent most of their time together leaned against Kylo’s chest, complaining about the latest staff drama. That was the least favorite part of his job, the petty feuds between the teachers, the gossip spread by the secretaries, the librarian secretly dating the football coach. The students, by comparison, were quite easy to handle, and delights to deal with. Kylo didn’t mind letting Hux talk on and on about it, because at least they weren’t talking about his own problems for once. Besides, Hux’s bitching was often quite entertaining to listen to, the way he scornfully mocked his own teachers and counselors in different ridiculous voices and used his extremely colorful vocabulary in every sentence. Every time Kylo snickered, Hux would smack his arm and say “I’m glad one of us is getting some amusement out of this”.

 

Kylo continued to drive Rey to and from school, and sometimes he’d take her somewhere else, like a museum or the library. Sometimes he drove her and her friends around, so that Leia could help Han throw up in the bathroom without worrying about being quiet. Han was near the end now, it was obvious to all of them. That didn’t mean that Rey should be there to witness his spiral downwards. Kylo’s role became that of a distractor, whether that meant keeping Rey out of the house, or making sure she was more focused on her telescope than she was on the way Han’s handkerchiefs turned red when he coughed.

 

Tragedy always seemed to strike when it was least expected.

 

Rey had the radio turned on to the pop hits of the 80’s as they drove away from the school, and Kylo was barely tolerating it. It was an overcast day, the local radio host talked about the possibility for rain during a break between the _Earth, Wind & Fire_ hour and the _Journey_ hour. Kylo almost couldn’t hear his cell phone over the sound of Steve Perry’s voice, but the sound of it was sobering enough that he was hyper aware whenever it rang. He pulls over a little too violently, the tires screeching in protest as he parks in front of a gas station and answers the call. Rey turns off the radio immediately, watching Kylo with her breath held.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Honey,” Leia’s voice says it all with just one word, and it’s like the last time she called him all over again. Kylo holds his breath now too. “Han is stable right now, but I’d be surprised if he lasts the night. Bring Rey to the hospital so the two of you can say goodbye.”

 

Kylo doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even end the call, just chucks his phone into the back seat and speeds back onto the road. Rey doesn’t need to ask where they’re going, she already knows. They go well over the speed limit, and Kylo pulls some reckless maneuvers when they get on the freeway, but somehow they don’t so much as see a police car on the way to the hospital. It might’ve been because the world was a complete blur if you looked out the window at this speed. Kylo is an excellent driver, taught by Han, the man who’d done a few drag races in his time, and dabbled in a little stunt driving when a TV show was filming in town and needed someone. That didn’t mean that Rey didn’t look like her life was flashing before her eyes the entire time.

 

They find a place to park in the first lap around the garage, and break into a run for the large automatic doors. Kylo had the presence of mind to grab his phone from the back seat before they jumped out of the car, and saw that Leia had texted the floor and room number. He and Rey bypassed the nurse’s station, and rushed past room after room of dying patients, people with pneumonia, someone recovering from heart surgery, someone being told they had months left to live. Han was tucked into the room in the corner of a hall, with a huge window that looked out onto the ugly concrete buildings that surrounded the hospital. Light was streaming in, making the sterile white walls almost unbearably bright. So much for rain.

 

Rey went right in and clung to the railing as she knelt at the side of the bed, while Kylo stood to one side of the doorway with his back against the wall and his arms folded across his chest. Leia was sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed, and Chewie and Luke were together on a bench seat against the wall by the doorway. Han looked almost unrecognizable, dressed in a pale blue hospital gown, surrounded by white sheets and white walls, hooked up to what looked like a half a dozen different machines. He was sleeping, oxygen tubes wrapped around his face and a gentle, steady beeping from the heart monitor. Nobody looked at each other or spoke a word.

 

Occasionally, a nurse would stop by and check on the IV and the machines, making small comments about his condition that might have been comforting if everyone in the room didn’t already know that it didn’t make a damn difference how well he was doing anymore. One of them gave Leia a couple brochures about grief management and funeral arrangements.

 

Every couple minutes, Kylo’s phone buzzed with an incoming call from Phasma. It didn’t matter how many times he declined them, a few moments later the screen lit up again. Finally, his irritation got the better of him and Kylo stepped out into the hall.

 

“Now’s not a good time—“

 

“You haven’t replied to my emails in the last two days, so you’d better have a damn good reason—“

 

“Don’t fucking call me again,” he snarls into his phone before he hangs up, then turns it off for good measure.

 

When Kylo returned to the room, he reclaimed his previous standing position. He leaned his back against the wall, using it to steady himself as the hours crept by. He took his phone out of his pocket a few times, but didn’t turn it back on. Kylo didn’t even know what he’d say if he texted Hux. How did you phrase a message when it was about your dad dying? And what could Hux do, anyway? Kylo was pretty sure the people in this room were all that was allowed here anyway, there was no point in having Hux sit around by himself in the waiting room. Just knowing that he almost certainly would if Kylo asked was enough to comfort him for now.

 

As evening came, a doctor finally showed up. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of a TV drama, a classically handsome man in his early forties with a pair of expensive reading glasses tucked into his breast pocket, and Kylo immediately disliked him. He seemed like the type to sugar coat things, or talk down to them because none of them had medical degrees.

 

“Hello, my name is Doctor Sterling, I’m the attending physician.” No shit, the tag on his coat clearly said ‘ _F. Sterling M.D.’._ It perfectly matched Dr. Sterling’s movie star charisma. He sighed sadly, holding a clipboard full of papers that all said Han was dying. “We’ve made Mr. Solo comfortable for the time being, and that’s really all we can do at this point. He’ll probably regain consciousness soon. In the meantime, I encourage you to go down to the dining hall for a hot meal while you wait.” His perfectly blue eyes linger pityingly on Rey before he nods at the lack of a response and slips out of the room.

 

Leia sighs a deep sigh and is the first to stand up. “I’m going down to the cafeteria. Rey, come with me.” She reaches out her hand as she walks for the door, and Rey wordlessly takes her hand and stands up. Her knees would probably bruised tomorrow from how long she’s been kneeling. Chewie gets up too from his spot by Luke, signing that he would help them carry food back up to the room. The trio didn’t try to convince the other two to come with them, they just left and closed the door behind them. They’d all silently agreed not to allow the possibility of Han dying alone.

 

Kylo and Luke were alone with Han, the whirring and beeping of the machines were the only sounds in the room, and the last streaks of sunlight in the sky were quickly bled out until it was all an inky blue.

 

“Come sit,” Luke says in his rare stern voice. Kylo pushes off the wall and takes Chewie’s still-warm seat beside his uncle. “Listen, kid…” he sighs, looking incredibly sad and tired. Luke had a very expressive face, much like Kylo’s, and even now he didn’t try to hide his feelings. “I’m sorry, about everything. I’ve missed you. Ruining our relationship is one of my biggest regrets.”

 

“I don’t forgive you,” Kylo says, and he can see Luke visibly deflate at his words, until he adds, “yet.”

 

“Does that mean you’re at least willing to give me another chance?”

 

“I’m not ruling out the possibility.”

 

“Jeez, kid,” a scratchy voice says, and they both jerk their heads over to the bed. Han manages to readjust himself in the bed, sitting up to look at them. “Even when your old man is on his death bed, you still can’t forgive your own uncle?”

 

“He doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to, Han,” Luke says, defending Kylo even though he hadn’t been especially kind the past two times they’d seen each other. “I feel better knowing that he’s willing to.”

 

“I do too.” Han coughs weakly, then lays his head back on his pillow. “Listen up, I have some wisdom to bestow, before I finally give up the ghost.”

 

Luke and Kylo lean closer to the bed with rapt attention, as if Han would fade away if they so much as blinked. Trying to burn this moment into their memories forever.

 

“Here it is. Ben, these past months have been absolute hell, but seeing you again has been the one of the best things to happen to me in eight years. I want to thank you for all the time and work you’ve put in to help us through this whole thing. My advice is to stop worrying about everything and just enjoy the here and now. Sometimes you’ve gotta do things just for the hell of it. And sometimes things go wrong. It’s not the end of the world if you have to rethink your game plan. And at least there’s usually some kind of valuable life lesson to be learned.” Han shrugs at his own words, because for the most part he’s had a very lucky life, and often thought that learning from your mistakes was overrated. “Take care of your mother and your sister when I’m gone, will you?”

 

Kylo nods, his breath shallow and stilted.

 

“Luke, you already know what I’m gonna say to you. Best brother a guy could ask for, one of the best friends I’ve ever had, blah blah blah. Take care of Leia, too. And Chewie, for that matter. Make sure they take it easy, you know how they are.” Han waves his hand dismissively, as if he’s simply talking about the weather instead of giving his son and brother posthumous instructions.

 

“Anything else?” Luke asks, taking Han’s hand. Han smiles the same lopsided smile that Kylo has, his eyes soft as they look between the two of them.

 

Han pauses, appearing to seriously mull the question over in his half-lucid state. “Check the drawer by my bed. Other than that, I think that’s all I have. I’ve never died before, so I’m not entirely sure what the protocol is. Isn’t this the part where you tell me what you want to?”

 

“Okay,” Luke says, almost breaking for a second, but quickly regaining his composure. “You remember that road trip we took the summer before college? That godforsaken old Winnebago, you, me, Leia and Chewie?’

 

“Yeah,” Han says, closing his eyes to better picture the rusty old Winnebago. “The AC stopped working on the way back home, and you decided to pick up hitchhikers that completely stunk it up with their weed.”

 

Luke chuckles. “We went camping and got drunk. A raccoon ate all our food because we forgot to tie it up in a tree. That was one of the happiest times of my life.”

 

“Me too, pal,” Han says, eyes still closed, the smile still not leaving his face. “Reminds me of the first time we tried to take Ben camping. You probably don’t remember, Ben, you were about seven at the time. We thought it would be such a good experience for you to be out in the woods, maybe float around in a lake for a while, but by the time we got the tent pitched it was pouring. It rained the whole damn weekend.”

 

“I do remember,” Kylo murmurs. Not perfectly, granted, but little snippets still come through. Kylo can picture his dad, twenty years younger, cursing as he wrestled with their tent while Leia held his tiny hand and told him about all the different plants. She’d made sure to warn him about poison ivy, “Leaves of three, beware of me” and all that.

 

“On the last night, it finally cleared up enough that we could sleep outside. You and I laid on our backs and talked about the stars. I swear, you still had trouble tying your shoes, but you could name every constellation in the sky.”

 

“You’re the one who kept buying me those books about space,” Kylo argues quietly. Maybe if he wasn’t so saturated in books about far-reaching galaxies, he’d have mastered shoe-tying by then. Han laughs weakly.

 

“I bought you all those books because they made you happy. Nothing made you light up like that. So I read to you about the moon and the planets every night because I wanted to see you smile.”

 

Han’s words have started to become spaced out, softer, more mumbled. It could be that he’s just falling back asleep, but Kylo doesn’t think so.

 

“ _Dad_ ,” Kylo says, barely above a whisper. He doesn’t know if he can say the rest, but Han cracks his eyes open just to look into his, the soft smile still stretched out on his lips.

 

“I know.”

 

And then, just like that, Han’s eyes close once more and he slips away.

 

A complete silence falls over the room, and then the horrible sound of the heart monitor flat lining cuts through it like a razor. Luke and Kylo sit numbly, side by side, not looking anywhere accept Han’s face. He looks peaceful, calm. It’s not a comfort, it doesn’t make any of this hurt less.

 

A horrible wail jolts them from their haze, and Kylo and Luke look over to see Rey standing in the doorway, a cafeteria trey in her hands. It clatters to the floor, spilling tasteless hospital food all over the tile. She stumbles into the room and halfway collapses onto Han’s bedside, sobs wracking her body. She’s crying horrible, grief-stricken tears, the kind when you have to gasp for breath before you can continue howling in devastation. Kylo had heard those kinds of sobs many times when he served in the marines, but it was even worse coming from Rey. Leia and Chewie were right behind Rey, and Leia leans heavily into his side, her eyes screwed up in pain. Chewie reflexively puts an arm around her shoulders to steady her, but his eyes never leave the bed, his chin wobbling as tears flood his eyes.

 

It doesn’t take long for the nurses to rush into the room, apologizing over and over as they push past Leia and start attending to Han.

 

“I’m sorry,” one of them tries to say, ever so gently touching Rey’s shoulders. “You need to let us take him, honey.”

 

“No…no, no… _not yet_ …” Rey sobs, clinging to the bed.

 

“Ben,” Leia whispers, but he hears it. “Get her out of here, okay? We’ll be there in a minute.”

 

Kylo, having been frozen in place until that moment, gets up and peels Rey off the bed, having to physically carry her out of the room. She screams hysterically the entire way down the hall to the waiting room at the end. Kylo sets her down in one of the cold plastic chairs, but she grabs onto the front of his shirt and buries her wet face into his shoulder before he can pull away. He draws in a long breath and wraps his arms around her shaking body, managing to maneuver himself into the chair beside her. Lucky for them, this waiting room was vacant. There were couches and chairs along every wall, and a TV positioned in every corner above their heads. A magazine rack against the far wall is full of different brochures and pamphlets, the same ones that nurse had handed to Leia.

 

As soon as Rey loosens her grip on Kylo’s shirt, he sits back in his chair and looks blankly around the room. Rey draws both her knees up to her chest and presses her face into her thighs, rocking slightly back and forth.

 

Kylo’s hand instinctively pulls his phone out of his pocket, and he turns it back on. Hux’s number is still in his recent call log, so all he has to do is press one button and wait for it to start ringing. He stands up and paces around, his body suddenly restless, but the call goes to voicemail. He tries again, and it goes to voicemail again. And again. On the third failure, Kylo just stares at his phone clutched in his hand, willing Hux to call him back through thought alone. He just wants Hux to answer the damn phone, because he can’t bring himself to leave a message right now.

 

A familiar hum makes Kylo look over at the vending machine, at all the rows and rows of colorful aluminum cans. His gaze rests on the root beer, which just happens to be the same brand Han had been drinking at the airport. Kylo’s eyes bore into the dark brown can, illuminated in bright fluorescent lights, and he feels something in him finally _snap._  In one swift movement, Kylo raises his phone up over his head and flings it into the ground as hard as he can. The little rectangle of glass and plastic explodes on impact, the sound of it making Rey flinch in surprise. She looks at Kylo with wide eyes.

 

“ _Ben_ —“ she tries to say, her voice shaky and wrecked, but he’s already storming off towards the elevators. On his way, Kylo sees Leia leading Luke and Chewie towards the waiting room. She too tries to call out to him, to tell him to stop, asking where he thinks he’s going, but he ignores her and watches her disappear behind the closing elevator doors.


	18. Chapter 18

Kylo walks for untold miles down the feeder road parallel to the freeway. It’s thoroughly nighttime now, so sometimes a car will honk as it passes him. He just walks on, one foot after the other, feeling absolutely nothing for his own safety, nor for the world around him. His mind replays Han’s words over and over, trying to cling to the last memory of him, the lopsided smirk-smile with one dimple showing, the hazel eyes that cracked open just to make sure Kylo knew that he _knew_ , that look that held him steadily when the rest of the world was coming apart. Sometimes a car looked suspiciously like Leia’s, but they always sped past him instead of crawling along the road as she rolled down a window and tried to plead with him to come home. No one was coming to get him, they had more important things to worry about, like Han being taken to the morgue. Like Rey, who had curled into herself so hard that it looked like it’d hurt, like she wanted to erase herself from the world.

 

He didn’t know how much time had passed by the time he’d made it back to his side of town, but his feet, even in his broken-in Doc Martens, were aching from the journey. He walked through the strip of storefronts that were backed against his neighborhood, then past his neighborhood and into the park. Always the park. Kylo walked into the least tree-filled patch of field and laid down on his back, staring up at the vast emptiness of the sky stretched out in front of him. The darkness above him melted into the darkness under him until Kylo felt completely saturated in black, invisible, alone.

 

It was a comforting thought, to be swallowed up in the shadows like the cavernous belly of some giant cosmic beast. The stars glimmered down at him from lightyears away, but none of them looked as bright as before, like Han had stolen their light when he’d gone. Kylo traces over the imaginary lines of Andromeda and Pegasus, then around the curve of Ursa Major and down to the jutted angles of Aquila. He isn’t sure when, but eventually the shock ebbed away enough for the exhaustion to overcome him. He slipped into sleep there in the cold, damp grass, and imagined himself being digested by that cosmic beast until he was nothing but stomach acid and star dust.

 

* * *

 

 

When Kylo came around, it was colder and wetter. He had no idea how much time had passed, but the reason he’d been roused from sleep was because it was finally raining. He sits up, already feeling the water soaking through his clothes, and shivers. The storm clouds have extinguished any hint of light left in the sky, but Kylo’s eyes have adjusted enough to the dark that he’s able to find his feet and pick his way back down the wet gravel path and out to the street. As he begins his half-conscious walk back to the house, a familiar car does pull up beside him.

 

“Where in the hell have you been?” Hux shouts through the open passenger’s side window, sounding surprised that he’d even managed to find Kylo at all. “Get in, you’re sopping wet.” Kylo wordlessly obeys him, climbing into the passenger’s seat and soaking it through with his body. Hux turns the heater up higher and pulls back onto the road, heading for the house.

 

“Your mother called me,” he explains, looking unsure of what he should say next. That meant that he knew everything, about Han, about Kylo breaking his phone and disappearing into the night while his family was left to deal with the fallout. And he’d known exactly where Kylo would be, too. Either Kylo was extremely predictable, or Hux knew him too well by now. Maybe both. The clock on the dashboard read “2:30AM”.

 

They roll up to the house in no time. Hux tries to look at Kylo, but he won’t meet his eyes. “Go inside and get warm,” he instructs, sounding stern despite his obvious worry. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

 

Kylo shakes his head, a few drops of water dripping onto the dashboard from the ends of his hair. Hux leans over and presses a kiss to the side of Kylo’s face, then reaches over and pushes the passenger’s door open for him. Kylo stumbles out of the car and goes up to the front door, already knowing that Hux will idle on the street until he goes inside. It’s almost three AM, but the lights are all on. When he steps into the foyer, it’s so perfectly quiet that for a moment he thinks that his family really is asleep, that they just left the lights on by accident. Then he hears a sniffle from the living room, and Luke and Leia materialize in front of him a second later.

 

“You’re _soaked_ ,” Leia says, in the same harsh but concerned tone as Hux. “Luke, go get a towel from the hall closet.”

 

“The Camino is in the driveway,” Kylo says, realizing that he’d left the hospital with the keys in his pocket.

 

“I have the spare key, so Luke drove it home,” Leia says.

 

She leads Kylo into the living room while Luke heads up the stairs, where Rey is curled up on the couch with three blankets wrapped tightly around her, and Chewie is sitting in Leia’s chair beside Han’s old recliner. Their eyes are both red-rimmed from crying, but, like Kylo, they both look hollowed out and empty now. Leia sits Kylo down at the other end of the couch, and Luke returns a moment later with two fluffy towels in hand, as well as an old quilt to drape around him. Together they towel off his hair like he’s a dog, until they’re confident that Kylo probably won’t catch pneumonia, at least. Rey sits up and covers Kylo in one of her blankets as well, already warmed up with her body heat. He sits still on the couch and lets the blankets hang off his shoulders like a cape. The family settles into a deep silence once more, Leia sitting in Han’s Lay-Z-Boy and Luke between Rey and Kylo on the sofa. There’s nothing to say, nothing to do, so they sit and quietly contemplate, alone together. They’re all tired, but no one wants to sleep.

 

 Kylo finally gets back up, letting the blankets drop off his shoulders and fall back in a pile on the couch, and he goes into the garage by himself. It’s cold here, reminding him that he’s still wearing his damp clothes, but Kylo doesn’t care. He sits down on the concrete floor and stares at his painting, willing himself to get up and start working on it. He needs to, the deadline is so close. He can’t. It’s almost unbearable just to look at, much less start adding to. Kylo stays out there for the rest of the night and into the morning, and no one comes in to check on him.

 

The next couple of days are spent in a fugue state. The family functions on autopilot as they carry out their day to day business, and the hours blur into one another like a nonstop fever dream that none of them can wake from. It falls to Leia to take care of the business end of things, making phone calls and going to official offices to sign papers and make the necessary arrangements. Under normal circumstances, Kylo would try to help her, but these were definitely _not_ normal circumstances. He barely manages to care for himself, showering and eating and laying a couple pathetic brushstrokes at a time. People are in and out of the house constantly, family and friends alike bringing over food, helping to clean up the house, offering assistance in any way they know how. It does help, for the most part, to have everything in a constant state of activity. It was distracting, at the very least.

In addition to people like Maz and Amilyn and Lando coming around to help out, Hux also started showing up. He offered his condolences to the entire family, and hand-delivered Rey’s school work to her, which he told her not to worry about for the time being, and then he continued to hang around for Kylo’s sake, making sure that he was eating and not staying in his bed for too long at a time. He even took the liberty of composing an email to Phasma for him, although it took a few drafts before he managed to sound civil, instead of starting it off with “Dear Phasma, you heartless bitch”. Sometimes, he would just come over and read in the living room, his presence alone was enough of a comfort to Kylo that it eased some of his despair.

 

Over the course of the following week, Kylo forced himself to paint a little every day. It was a painstaking process, but by the end of it he was finished with the final painting, and on that same day, he carefully packaged up all three and shipped them off to New York. It should have been a huge relief, or exciting even, to be finished, but without the motivation of working towards something, Kylo was on the verge of surrendering to his depression. If not for the constant contact with other people, he would have.

 

“Ben,” Leia says, stopping him in the hallway on his way to the kitchen one day. “We’ve set the date for Han’s service. He’ll be cremated this afternoon, and then his memorial service will be on the 27th at noon.”

 

Kylo’s chest tightens up. “Is there any possible way to do it a few days earlier? Or at least move it to the evening?” That was the day after the exhibition. _Of course_ it had to be _that_ close to the day of the fucking exhibition.

 

“I’m sorry, but I’ve already made the arrangements and set the date. All the people attending have made time for this one day, I don’t think they’ll be able to change their schedules--”

 

“I can’t go.”

 

“What? What are talking about?”

 

“I can’t go. I’ll be in New York.”

 

Leia looks at him like he’s suddenly grown a second head. “This is your father’s funeral, Ben.”

 

“This is my exhibition,” Kylo fires back, irritated. “I have to be there. It’s the most important thing that’s happened in my career.”

 

Leia shakes her head, obviously angry. “ _Fine_. I can’t stop you from leaving, but I hope you know what you’re missing out on.”

 

He hoped he did, too.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hux didn’t seem too keen on the idea of Kylo leaving two days before his father’s funeral, either.

 

“It seems like every time you do right by your family, something comes along to fuck it up,” he says, pinching at the bridge of his nose. Kylo sits on Hux’s couch as he paces back and forth in front of him.

 

“I have to go. That’s always been my one allowance for coming and staying here.” The deal from the very beginning had been that no matter what, Kylo was going back to New York for the Snoke exhibition. It was entirely out of his control when Han happened to die, and when the funeral happened to be.  It was simply bad timing.

 

“This is too clean a getaway, is what I’m worried about.”

 

“You’re worried I won’t come back?”

 

“I’m worried you’ll take the easy way out. That’s what you seem to do when there’s a challenge in your way. If there’s any possible alternative that causes you less grief, you take it. It’s only when you can’t that you’ll put in the work,” Hux says. He’s right, of course, but Kylo will never concede that. “You only stayed put and helped out your family when you realized that leaving was harder. And now it’s easier to leave.”

 

“Then come with me.”

 

“What?”

 

“Come with me to New York. I’ll pay for your ticket,” Kylo says, like it’s the most obvious plan of action. “Then we’ll both know for sure what’s easier: coming back to Santa Fe, or saying goodbye to you.”

 

Hux stands there and stares at Kylo. It would be absolutely devastating for both of them if Hux had to return to Santa Fe without Kylo after the exhibition was over, but at least if that’s how it ended, they would have their proof that Kylo never would have stayed in New Mexico, not even for the man he was pretty sure he loved. It was an ultimatum between his old life and a new one.

 

“Fine. I’ll go.”

 

They boarded a plane early on the 26th. Luke dropped them off at the airport in the Camino, Rey in the front seat with him while Kylo and Hux were crowded into the back. Leia refused to see them off, and Kylo knew that her opinion on the matter was “if you don’t come back I have nothing to say to you, and if you do then I don’t need to say goodbye”. Rey seemed to be more realistic about the chance of Kylo returning, and had demanded to go with them.

 

All four of them walked through the enormous building, past the rows of chairs and the gift shop and the Cinnabon kiosk. It felt painful to come back here, the first time Kylo had seen Han after eight years was leaning up against the wall, looking out at the planes, drinking root beer. That had been the beginning of the end. When he caught Hux’s eye and he squeezed Kylo’s hand, he tried to remind himself that it could be the beginning of something else, too, if he’d let it.

 

Rey hugged him around the chest, the tallest part of him she could reach. It was the first time they’d embraced, not counting how she’d clung to him the night Han died. Kylo stood there and let her, one large hand patting her back until she let go.

 

“Make sure he comes back,” she says to Hux, who looks a little taken aback by her total shift in tone towards him. Rey was no longer resentful of Hux, nor was she intimidated by him. Now, he was Kylo’s boyfriend first, and the headmaster of her school second. She was stern when she spoke to him, holding him responsible for her foster brother’s return. It would’ve been funny of it wasn’t so sad.

 

“I’ll do my best,” he says, still a bit thrown off. He glances at Kylo, as if to silently blame him for this change. Kylo shrugs.

 

“Ben…” Luke begins, looking beyond tired. It had become Luke’s perpetual state of being, considering how prone he was to worrying about everyone. He’d been at Leia’s side through the entire process, there for her to lean on when necessary, to hold his hand when she felt overwhelmed. “Good luck on the exhibit. I know it’ll be great.”

 

Kylo nods at him, and just like that they part ways. Kylo and Hux go to wait for their flight to begin boarding, and Luke guides Rey towards the front doors, probably promising to take her out for an early lunch, considering how much of a doting uncle he could be.

 

The flight back to New York is almost surreal. It feels like Kylo was in Santa Fe for years, but also like everything had happened over the course of a weekend. Hux slept soundly through most of the flight while Kylo sat awake and thought about the huge exhibit hall, the grandiose archways and glittering spotlights, the golden filigree and click of expensive heels on sprawling marble floors. They would land in the late afternoon, enough time for Kylo to meet with Phasma and make sure everything was ready, and then Hux to help him find the proper attire.

 

Kylo expected the meeting with Phasma to be tense, but it was practically frigid. The stress of trying to pull strings and make arrangements while her client was halfway across the country had been unkind to Phasma’s ability to be civil. Kylo had a nagging suspicion that, under different circumstances, Hux and Phasma would get along really well. They would admire each other’s work ethic and way of completing tasks, their orderliness. It made him a little relieved to know that Hux’s opinion of her had been colored by the way she’d treated him, and that throughout the conversation he’d oh-so politely reminded her to be respectful to Kylo. He didn’t necessarily need any backup, but it was appreciated anyway. With the knowledge that everything was ready for tomorrow evening, Kylo and Hux were free to roam the city. Hux forced him into several different upscale shops until they both found acceptable suits for the exhibit, and then demanded to see central park.

 

One of the reoccurring things in their relationship seemed to be parks. Kylo didn’t mind, because he liked the outdoors. There was something reinvigorating about walking through a small piece of nature when the rest of your life was so completely concrete and metal and plastic. Hux stared around them in wonder at the sheer amount of snow that was blanketing everything, then up at the towering trees that flanked them on either side, perhaps realizing for the first time that there was an allure to NYC that would make leaving difficult. Then he abruptly decided that it was too damn cold to keep walking around outside.

 

Next, they go to Kylo’s studio, which, although not very well insulated, was a relief from the wind at least. It’s exactly as he’s left it, although maybe a little dusty. Kylo considers perhaps selecting items to take, should he decide to go back to New Mexico. Of course, he could have the bulk of it packed up and shipped there, but there were smaller things like his camera that would probably fair better in his luggage on a plane than being shipped in big boxes with so many other, larger things. That was if he was returning to New Mexico at all. Kylo thought that he’d make his mind up once he was back in the city, but there was still so much conflict in him. Hux watched him quietly from the futon as Kylo put a few objects in his duffel bag.

 

The rest of the evening was painfully touristy. Kylo was dragged all over the city as Hux attempted to soak up the experience. This was, surprisingly, his first visit to New York City, and he was bound and determined to enjoy it, winter be damned. They end the night by eating at Kylo’s favorite pizza place, which happens to be another hole in the wall kind of restaurant, just like the burger place he took Hux on their unofficial first date. He looks so out of place there, sitting in a plastic booth while he studied a laminated menu, but Kylo appreciates the disparity of it, like finding a beautiful gold earring at a gas station.

 

They stay at Kylo’s apartment for the night. It wasn’t like being at Hux’s place at all; where you’d find tasteful leather couches and other personal touches that showed signs of inhabitance, there were only bare walls and IKEA furniture. Hux was polite enough about it, but seemed to silently confirm that he had been right, that Kylo wasn’t living much of a personal life here. They didn’t really worry about the lack of décor though, they were more focused on warming each other up in Kylo’s Hasselvika bed.


	19. Chapter 19

The next day starts off slow. Kylo wakes up next to a familiar person, but the surroundings are definitely _unfamiliar_. It takes a few moments of yawning and blinking the sleep out of his eyes to remember that he’s back in his apartment in NYC, his home. Actually getting out of bed was a painful process. He’d forgotten how cold the winters here were, enjoying instead the more mild temperatures of New Mexico. They bundled up in warmer clothes than they had the day before, Kylo lending Hux a thicker coat out of his closet, along with a scarf and a hat he’d never worn before. Their plans for the day included more stops at places on Hux’s list of sights to see, interspersed with any places that Kylo recommended they go. This included visiting three different museums. Kylo didn’t really mind going wherever Hux lead them, at least it distracted him from everything else, including the fact that the exhibit was tonight. In mere hours he’d be standing in the middle of the showroom while anyone who was anyone in the New York art society would be walking around, scrutinizing his work. Snoke himself would be there too, Kylo reminded himself.

 

As evening drew closer, they returned to Kylo’s apartment to get dressed and ready to go. Kylo had originally wanted an all-black suit, just like the one he’d worn to all his exhibits, but Hux had pushed him to try something different, so he’d gotten a fitted three piece suit with a royal blue jacket that had black details, a black vest, tie and pants, and a white shirt. He combed just enough product into his hair to keep it from becoming utterly disastrous on the way to the exhibit. Hux had gotten a black suit with a green shirt underneath that made him look a little like a super villain, but Kylo liked it. They looked like they complimented one another, like a proper couple.

 

As if the pictures in the emails hadn’t been ostentatious enough, the building was even more so in person. It was an ancient building, but extremely well-maintained, immaculate down to every last square inch. The looming archways and wide corridors leading into the main showroom were almost overwhelming. Kylo could feel the anxiety thrumming through his extremities and directly in the center of his chest as he and Hux walked steadily onward into the venue. They shrugged off their coats and handed them off to the attendants who seemed to materialize out of the shadows, and then took glasses from a waiter with a trey of wine who appeared a second later. If Kylo had felt out of place at these kinds of events before, being away from them for months had made that feeling all the worse. Phasma was waiting near the wall where all three of Kylo’s paintings hung. As anticipated, her hair was impeccably styled, and she wore a metallic silver dress that went all the way to the floor. Must be custom-made, especially considering that she was wearing heels.

 

“Look at that, you’re on time _and_ you’re not wearing the same suit that you wear to every function,” she observes. “Refreshing. Maybe having a boyfriend has had a positive effect on you after all.” Both Kylo and Hux bristle ever so slightly at the veiled insults.

 

The three of them approach the wall itself to get their first look at the display. Kylo had already made up his mind on what to name the paintings, so the name plates were already in place to the immediate right of each one. Hux studies them one at a time, gets in close to look at the patterns and color variation of each painting for several minutes, then shoots Kylo an indecipherable look after doing so. Next to the first one, which was a swirling sea of blues and purples with bright yellow stars streaking across, was the name “Aries”. The second one, all structure and precision and its fiery hues was titled “Capricorn”. The final one, filled with careful, incremental brushstrokes of greens, browns, and greys was titled “Scorpio”. The three paintings as a whole were titled “Constellations”, and Kylo had hoped that the names weren’t too obvious. Unfortunately, Hux was incredibly clever and perceptive, and probably recognized that the painting that most resembled him was named after his own astrological sign, just as the first one was Rey’s and the third was Han’s. The theme of the show had been “Connections” after all, and so Kylo had inadvertently created his pieces to reflect the three connections that had impacted him most while he was working on these. Realizing this had presented him with a choice, deny that he’d repressed his feelings so much that he’d created symbolic expressions of them, or embrace it. He’d chosen the latter, but subtly. No outsider would know the truth.

 

“Those are some remarkable works,” comes the voice behind the three of them. Phasma is unruffled as they turn around, but Kylo is frozen in place. There, in a flashy gold suit, leaning slightly on an expensive cane, was Snoke himself. He smiles at Kylo, but his eyes aren’t exactly kind. Kylo had seen photos of Snoke before, but none of them could account for his presence in real life. He was easily taller than any of them, and even though his face wasn’t particularly intimidating, the left side of it drooped from a past stroke, he exuded an aura that was thoroughly intimidating, border lining on unsettling, right down to his ice-blue eyes and his innocent smile.

 

“Thank you, sir,” Kylo replies, feeling suddenly nervous. He was proud of what he’d done, the way his paintings adorned the wall in all their perfect imperfection, but something about Snoke felt like an imploding star, his gravity pulling everything into him, consuming them. This was the man he had idolized for years now, complimenting his work, yet feeling so different than Kylo had expected.

 

“I’m going to be speaking to the attendees in just a minute, but I’d like to find you later tonight,” he says, eyeing Phasma and Hux standing on either side of Kylo, “alone, to discuss your promising future.”

 

Kylo nods dumbly and watches Snoke disappear into the crowd once again. His palms are slick with sweat, and he hopes nobody notices it when he wipes them off on his slacks. He should only feel giddy excitement in this moment, but he feels a cold knot of dread as well, weighing down his entire body as he stands there.

 

“What do you think he meant by that?” Hux asks, keeping his eyes on the back of Snoke’s suit until it was completely obscured by the rest of the guests.

 

“You’d better make yourself very visible for the rest of the night,” Phasma says at the same time, in her very serious don’t-blow-this-for-us voice.

 

Snoke eventually calls everyone to the center of the room, where he makes an eloquent speech about how they are celebrating some of this decade’s most talented artists, to take note of the names up on the walls, because they would someday be immortalized. Kylo knew that most of the words were just that, words. Snoke was patting himself on the back for hand-picking the artwork on display in this room, just as much if not more than he was complimenting the artists themselves. Still, a tiny part of him wanted to believe it was the truth, that even a kid who’d disowned his family, joined the military at 18, and then stumbled upon his true passion afterward could have just as much of a chance at success as anyone else, even the people who had many more privileges in their lives.

 

After the toast, the crowd once again dispersed, but a good number of people stayed around Snoke. Kylo took it as a sign that they’d find each other later, and he and Hux instead walked around to look at the other art, occasionally stopped for polite conversation by someone. With Hux there as a buffer, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as it had been in the past. Phasma had long-since disappeared from their company, but Kylo knew that she’d be watching them from a distance to make sure that at some point he talked to Snoke. Eventually, Kylo and Hux were mingling with some wealthy socialites, when someone took him by the elbow.

 

“Is this a good time?” Snoke asks, in a tone that says it’s not really a question. Kylo glances at Hux, who catches his eye and nods his permission to be left alone with these rich strangers.

 

Kylo walks side by side with Snoke into a more unoccupied area of the venue. He can feel his sense of security fading away the farther they get from Hux, and all the other guests, for that matter, replaced instead with renewed anxiety.

 

“Your story has impressed me, I must say,” Snoke begins, completely calm and self-assured by comparison. He holds his cane perfectly centered in front of his feet and leans on it with both hands folded atop the sculpted handle. “You’ve truly come from an interesting background, joining the marines as a young man, coming out the other side to find that your talent lie in the arts. Your kind of talent is unique, you’re not like so many young artists these days,” Snoke raises on hand and waves it dismissively, sneering in distaste. “They are raised in a sheltered world where all they ever have to be is artistic, but they never truly experience anything _real._ ” His hand clenches into a fist as he locks eyes with Kylo. “You’ve experienced so much in your short life, so much turmoil, so many obstacles, such loss. That really carries over in your work, the way you use color and technique in different ways to bring about so much emotion. It’s something I so rarely see.”

 

Kylo nods, not entirely sure how to respond to everything that Snoke is saying. He’s flattered, but also not very good at taking a compliment, much less one of this magnitude. Snoke doesn’t seem to mind that his companion is silent in the slightest, he might even be pleased to have a monopoly on speaking.

 

“I know you must be waiting in suspense to know the reason why I’m telling you all this. It’s simple, I’d like to take you under my wing.”

 

“You what?” Kylo asks, not exactly polite. Snoke chuckles instead of appearing offended.

 

“I’d like to make you an offer you can’t refuse, my dear boy. I want to give you a scholarship to further your education in the arts, broaden your horizons, and fulfill your potential. I would also offer you a spot in my successive gallery shows.”

 

Kylo only stares at him, dumb-struck. He’s having trouble processing the words.

 

“Think of it as an investment. You’ve already proven to me that you have the talent to be a truly great artist.”

 

“Actually,” Kylo says slowly, and he can’t see anything in the way Snoke has composed his face, “I was considering moving back to New Mexico permanently. I’ve been there the past few months—“

 

“Then I got to you at just the right time!” Snoke says, smiling again as this is all serendipity. Kylo is quickly deciding that he doesn’t like it when Snoke smiles. “I’ve saved you from making a grave error in your career. If you leave New York, I won’t be able to give you all those handsome rewards. It would be a shame, too, that you wouldn’t be rewarded for all your efforts.”

 

“I’m honored,” Kylo says quickly. He’s eternally grateful, in fact. He never thought in a million years that he would be afforded this kind of an opportunity, to be recognized by such a shining star in the artistic community, and he’d be a complete idiot to not at least consider it before throwing it away. “It’s just…sudden. Would you mind if I take some time to think about it?”

 

“Of course,” Snoke replies. “But not too long. I’m a businessman, not a charity. Eventually you will have waited too long, and I will be forced to find someone else.”

 

Kylo returns to Hux in a daze, and before he can ask what happened Phasma materializes once more at their side.

 

“So?” she asks, looking hopeful and hungry for good news.

 

Kylo manages to mumble out the offer as Snoke had explained it to him just a moment ago, and Phasma looks extremely pleased. Hux looks a little pained. Both of them assume that Kylo has already made his choice.

 

“This calls for celebration,” she says, smiling, and makes her way across the room to find new glasses of wine for the three of them.

 

“That’s bloody incredible,” Hux says once she’s gone. He looks almost as stunned as Kylo feels, his arms crossed over his chest prove that he isn’t exactly happy about it. “Congratulations.”

 

“I didn’t say yes,” Kylo says quietly, in case Phasma sneaks up on them and overhears. He feels a little guilty for saying that, considering that he’ll probably end up accepting the offer. How can he not? It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. He’d be stupid not to take it.

 

“What? _Why?_ ” Hux asks, looking at Kylo with a mixture of incredulousness and relief.

 

“Because,” Kylo says, “I want to know it’s the right thing to do.”

 

“I’m not going to make the choice for you, I hope you know that. It’s all on you, what you want to do with your life. I’m not going to give you permission or forbid you.”

 

“I know that. I’m not asking you to.”

 

“So what are we going to do tomorrow?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Kylo.”

 

He looks up at Hux, his eyes previously having been trained on their shoes.

 

“If we catch a flight early enough, we can make the funeral.”

 

Kylo swallows. Before he can respond, Phasma returns with the wine, as well as half a dozen smiling faces who want to meet him.

 

* * *

 

 

All Kylo wants to do when he gets to his apartment is take off his shoes and fall asleep in his suit. He knows that can’t happen, because Hux is here, and he already knows that he’ll want to talk about the night now that they’re properly alone, as well as the impossible choice that’s on the table.

 

“I know this is a lot to process all at once,” Hux says, as soon as they cross the threshold into the apartment, “but you need to make your decision.”

 

Kylo drops himself into his stiff armchair, boneless. He wishes he could just stare at the wall and let the pieces sort themselves out in his head. But he can’t. Hux is standing in the middle of his living room, demanding that he stay in this moment and face his problems now.

 

“Are we getting the morning flight out of here?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Do you want to stay here?” Hux’s voice is suddenly less harsh, quieter. “Nobody would really hold it against you, you know. That is an incredibly generous offer. It would provide you with enough success to become internationally famous, if you wanted to. You’d be fabulously wealthy.” And completely alone, he doesn’t say.

 

“I still don’t know.” Kylo already knows that Hux is sick of that phrase, but it’s all he has to offer.

 

“Think it over. I’m going to take a shower.”

 

Kylo watches Hux leave the room and sits back against the cold faux-leather cushion against his back, letting out a deep sigh.

 

He keeps thinking about the speech Snoke had made that evening, the way he’d framed his words. It was so different than what he’d expected, the very self-centered and calculated way Snoke spoke to him. He wondered how much of that success would really be his if Snoke was constantly there, taking credit for discovering Kylo Ren. He wondered how he’d speak to colleagues, about the angry young man who’d run away from home, gone through war, and had become an artist despite everything that had happened to him, or perhaps because of it. How _tragic_. How humanitarian of Dr. Snoke to take a chance on a loose canon like that. “I’d like to take you under my wing”, that’s how he’d phrased it, right?

 

Could Kylo even truly enjoy his success here if it meant he’d turned his back on Rey and Leia in order to get it? Would he just spend every morning for the rest of his life thinking about how he’d never properly said goodbye to Han when he woke up in an expensive bed? Would he spend his nights wondering about the missed opportunities with Hux, about how he was starting to think he could marry him one day? Could he live with that much regret? Would it be worth it?

 

Kylo tried to think logically. Success. What did that mean to him? What would ultimate success be in his eyes? It wasn’t the life Snoke had insinuated with his words, fame, adoring fans, vast sums of money. He was satisfied with relatively humble living conditions, as long as he had enough to make ends meet. At his current level of notoriety, Kylo made more than enough to live comfortably, and he was well-known enough that he could probably have a stable career anywhere in the United States. Fame. Kylo’s least favorite part of being a well-known artist was the fame. He didn’t like other people, especially in crowds, and especially when they were all focused on him. Adoring fans. Kylo could fill his house and his bed with an endless supply of people who idolized him, but he already knew none of them could compare to the people who were waiting in Santa Fe.

 

The more Kylo tugged at the loose ends, the more the offer seemed to fall apart. In the heat of the moment, standing face-to-face with Snoke himself, and Phasma’s enthusiasm at his side, it had been all-too easy to get swept up in it, to feel deeply conflicted about it. Now that Kylo was alone, and really took it all in, he was starting to realize that maybe he already had everything he needed. This opportunity had at first seemed like it would completely tip Kylo’s favor to staying in New York, when in reality it had simplified the decision, made him really evaluate what he wanted.

 

Kylo shuffles into his bedroom, slipping off his shoes as he goes, and lets himself fall back onto the mattress with a soft bounce from the impact. The shower had shut off by now, and Hux appeared just a moment later with wet hair, dressed in pajamas that would help keep him warm. His suit was hung up nicely in the closet, as Kylo could see from his place on the bed.

 

“There’s no way I’m letting you sleep in that,” he says warily, knowing Kylo all-too well.

 

“Then come undress me,” Kylo replies simply.

 

“Oh?” Hux raises an eyebrow, but seems intrigued by the request nonetheless. He walks purposely slow as he crosses the room to Kylo. Then he stands over him, and reaches down to grab ahold of his tie and wind it around his knuckles, using it to leverage Kylo into an upright position. “And why would I do that?” he asks, staring deeply into Kylo’s dark eyes.

 

Kylo smirks his lopsided smirk and leans up the inches it takes to kiss Hux deeply. By now it’s a practiced routine, yet every new kiss is still exciting and not nearly enough to sate either of them. He moves his head to the side after a while, kissing along Hux’s jawline. By now most of Hux’s resolve has cracked, he’s not so much playing hard to get anymore as he's barely holding himself back. He ultimately gives up on resisting completely and plays along instead, straddling Kylo’s lap.

 

Kylo rests both of his hands on Hux’s hips, enjoying how completely flush they are against each other. “Because,” he says breathlessly, the depth of his voice and closeness of it to Hux’s ear makes him shudder. “I’ve made up my mind.”


	20. Chapter 20

Hux wakes up ungodly early to help Kylo pack all his suitcases and backpacks with clothes and other belongings, and then to finish clearing out the cabinets and refrigerator to get rid of any stale or expired food. The rest of the furniture and items would be left to be boxed up at a later time. Kylo calls Phasma over to his studio for an impromptu meeting before the flight at eight while Hux stays at the apartment to finish cleaning. She comes right away, likely because she thinks it’s about Snoke’s offer, and also because she’s the type of person who wakes up before the sunrise to start her day. Kylo braces himself for a fight.

 

“Come again?” she asks over the rim of her to-go cup of tea, arching one brow. The fact that she’s so neatly perched at the edge of the futon with one leg crossed over the other does nothing to make her less terrifying. It reminds Kylo more of a cobra poised to strike than anything else.

 

Kylo stands awkwardly in front of Phasma, too restless to sit down with her, his healthy level of fear notwithstanding. “I’ve decided to relocate to Santa Fe, and I’m hoping to be completely moved back by the end of February. I need your help with the process, though, because I’m leaving today to be with my family for my father’s funeral this afternoon and will probably be coming back next week to finish settling my affairs here.” Hux had coached him through this conversation before he left the apartment so that he could have the words ready when he needed them. Phasma can probably tell that the words are rehearsed, and much too eloquent to be his own.

 

“Did you hear a word of what Dr. Snoke said to you last night? Or did you sustain some kind of head injury on the way home?” She stares at Kylo disbelievingly. How could he possibly turn down such an offer in just one night?

 

“I’ve thought about the offer, and this is the decision I’ve come to.”

 

“And you’re certain that you’ve thought this through? After one night?” Phasma questions skeptically. “I’m not sure you can come to such a conclusion in that short a time, or on your own.” Accusatory.

 

“You would have accepted it without question if I’d called you over to tell you I chose to take up the offer.”

 

“No, I’d advise you to take a few days to consider. This is a big, life-changing decision. You can’t just make up your mind in a single night.”

 

“I don’t know what else it is I need to consider,” Kylo argues. “I reviewed everything I could stand to gain from Snoke’s offer, and it’s nothing that I want.”

 

“You’re joking,” Phasma scoffs. “All the money you could make, the invaluable training you’d receive by furthering your education? All the future opportunities you’d obtain as a direct result of associating with Snoke?”

 

“I don’t want the success from someone else’s name,” Kylo says. “I don’t want Snoke to be there to capitalize on my work, and I don’t want to be indebted to him for the rest of my career.”

 

“I’m not sure you’ll even have a career if you move across the country.”

 

“I will,” Kylo says. “And if I don’t, I’ll figure something else out.”

 

“You’re really serious?” Phasma stares at him, scrutinizing every twitch and quirk on his face for any weakness she could use to turn his decision the other way. There were none; for once Kylo’s face was calm and composed.

 

“I am.”

 

She sits quietly in contemplation for a disconcerting amount of time. “I’ve given you my advice on the matter, but it seems that you will not be persuaded. It is my job as your agent to attend to your affairs, even if I won’t be your agent for much longer.”

 

“I’ll be in contact with you in the next couple days,” Kylo assures her. He’s very appreciative that Phasma’s professionalism comes before whatever personal hang-ups she has. They part ways civilly and quietly, not sparing many more words than are necessary.

 

The flight home was almost a relief. That was, if Kylo wasn’t having doubts. He sat in a window seat with Hux beside him, and stared out at the golden morning sunlight bathing the clouds while his hands nervously rubbed up and down his thighs. Hux tries to read, but finds himself having to still Kylo’s hands more often than he’d like. After being stuck on the same chapter for half an hour to no avail, he gave up and took to talking to Kylo in an effort to distract him, which halfway worked.

 

They land at 12:30, which means they’re already half an hour late. This is perfect form in the Skywalker family, to arrive late and make an entrance to any and all family affairs. Hux shoves Kylo into the airport bathroom so they can change into proper clothes for the funeral, and then they stuff all of Kylo’s things into a cab and head to the church.

 

“You go, I’ll handle this,” Hux says when they pull up to the curb. He uses the tone that says “don’t argue with me”.

 

Kylo staggers across the sprawling lawn, glancing up at the stained glass windows as he tries to smooth out his dress shirt. He made it, he’d done the right thing. So why didn’t it feel right?

 

The service was a melancholy affair, as to be expected. The entire room was hushed when Kylo walked in, and it was the kind of silence that would be disturbed no matter how quiet you were. Lando was standing at the podium, sharing some fond story about Han, and his eyes flicked to the back of the room before he continued talking. The simple movement was enough to turn many eyes towards the back as well, including Luke, Leia and Rey who were seated in the very front row, all turning their heads in synchrony. Kylo immediately felt like an intruder, that all the people who actually deserved to be here had already been seated for over thirty minutes. He was an excuse for a son, even after his father had died.

 

He sinks into a pew near the door, not wanting to cause even more of a disruption by walking all the way to the front row. Besides, the acoustics were designed to carry voices to every corner of the room. Kylo could hear every word Lando was speaking, and every sniffle and shift in position from the crowd. He let his eyes wander over the backs of heads as the words echoed around him. There were people practically crammed into the first half of the room, most of them familiar figures from Kylo’s childhood: other pilots and veterans, mostly. Also in attendance were Maz and Han’s old poker buddies, Amilyn, Chewie, and other attendees that Kylo didn’t recognize.

 

After Lando, another person was close to follow, smiling in a bittersweet way as they began recounting a fiasco Han had gotten them into. Listening to stories from other people who’d had such different experiences and memories with Han made Kylo feel sad and bitter. He leaned forward and folded arms across the back of the pew in front of him, resting his chin atop his forearm. Leia, Luke, and other immediate family had probably been the first to speak, and as the minutes passed, the people who took the podium were less and less recognizable, their stories less specific or familiar, dwindling down to short comments about Han’s character: a good man and one hell of a pilot.

 

Towards the end of the ceremony, Hux slipped in and sat down beside Kylo, perfectly silent. He kept his eyes on the front of the room, but his presence felt like a relief to a pain Kylo hadn’t been aware of. Eventually, no one else had something to share, so the priest took the podium and recited a prayer that only a few of the attendees echoed. Han had been agnostic at best, but he and Leia had both come from large religious families, so Kylo supposed it felt most familiar to have a memorial carried out in a church, where such things were usually done.

 

The people all stood at once when the service officially ended, most of them lingering as they talked to one another and then to Han’s closest family, giving their deepest condolences and far too many hugs. Kylo begrudgingly rose to his feet and walked over to join his family. Leia was standing in the middle of the aisle, her hands enclosed by those of a much larger man in a freshly pressed uniform as he spoke of her husband with deep admiration. Rey was standing to one side of her, Luke at the other. They all looked tired, but morale improved immediately when their eyes caught Kylo’s.

 

They solemnly exchanged greetings, but the mood around them all shifted drastically. Knowing what Kylo standing there meant seemed to shake off the dismal haze that had befallen the family. Kylo glanced back at the door, where Hux was waiting, neatly out of the way of those who were there to actually grieve for Han. Kylo shakes hands with even more people than last night. It’s different from the Snoke exhibit though, more intimate, more uncomfortable. Each new person who comes forward stares into his eyes and tells him the depths of their grief and remorse over Han’s death, and he numbly accepts each new apology for something that no one had control over. These are all nice people, and their words are probably sincere, but Kylo wishes he was anywhere else right now, not trapped in an endless loop of being a receptacle for the pain of others. He doesn’t want to reminisce with these well-meaning friends and colleagues about memories he wasn’t even alive to be a part of. None of them really mattered anyway. The image of Han was forever fixed in Kylo’s mind now, there were no more memories to be made, and no more chances to mend their relationship.

 

He let his mind wander as the people started to dwindle to just a few, most of them focused on chatting with Leia. Rey had sat back down on the pew beside Luke, and Kylo almost joined them when he overheard a snippet of conversation between Leia and a woman who was clutching a handkerchief in her dainty glove-clad hands.

 

“I think I’ll even miss the snoring,” she says, smiling sadly. “I haven’t had the chance to really sleep in my bed lately, but I know the quiet will bother me. Funny how even the things that annoy you most become things you wish you could have back.”

 

_Check the drawer by the bed._

 

Kylo hadn’t thought of those words since Han had spoken them. He’d said that, hadn’t he? Kylo was fairly sure he’d heard him right. He definitely hadn’t been in the right state of mind to remember that request until just now, so whatever lie in the drawer probably had yet to be discovered unless Luke or Leia had thought to do it. Kylo doubted it, considering how much of a challenge it had been for everyone to tend to themselves and the funeral arrangements. Anything beyond that set of capabilities had been put on hold.

 

“Where are you going?” Leia asks when she catches Kylo wandering towards the door.

 

“I’m going home.”

 

She seems to either be understanding of the fact that Kylo has had more than enough socializing for today or too tired to argue. “Alright. See you there.”

 

Hux helps Kylo get all his things home, and Kylo mentally notes that he should definitely do something soon to show his appreciation for everything he’s done. It can’t be easy to tend to Kylo’s various quirks and neurosis in addition to the labor of traveling and packing and hauling and planning. When they’re done stuffing everything into the guest room, Hux gratefully leaves to his own apartment to recuperate from the trip after being assured that Kylo wouldn’t have a meltdown in his absence. Kylo is alone in the house for the first time since he was a teenager.

 

Stepping into the master bedroom again was like entering a room with no air. It was a stifling, suffocating sensation as Kylo padded over to Han’s bedside drawer. He wasn’t certain of what would be inside, whether it was simply an old watch, or hidden money, a weathered photograph, or even just an old diner napkin with something written on it. Objects had vastly different values to Han than they did to other people, so sometimes a thing that he deemed as valuable or significant was just a scrap of sentimental junk. Slowly, hesitantly, Kylo pulls the drawer open with the quiet scuff of wood dragging along wood. There were plenty of useless things inside, as expected, but at the very top of the pile of breath mint tins and hand sanitizer and unused tissue packets was a simple, unmarked envelope.

 

Kylo sat on the edge of the bed as he took the envelope and held it gingerly in both hands, as if it were a precious, delicate thing that could break or disappear at any moment. He turned it over, but there was nothing but the pristine white paper of the casing. It was thick, the flap tucked down into the opening instead of being sealed shut. Kylo unfolded it and slid out the contents into his waiting hand. The stack of papers were all neatly folded, but he caught a sliver of Han’s handwriting peeking out and felt his chest squeeze almost painfully. He held his breath as he unfurled the papers and held them more upright to read.

 

The first page was very obviously a letter, and it was addressed to Leia. Kylo quickly shuffled it to the back of the stack, and repeated this action as he came across a page for Chewie, then Rey, then Luke. Finally, at the fifth page, Kylo saw his own name. Han had written a letter for him as well.

 

_Dear Ben,_

 

_It’s strange how dying changes your priorities. I would normally be watching hockey or down at the scrap yard right now, but instead I’m working on my fourth draft of a letter for you to have when I’m gone. Writing for Leia and Rey was easy. Hell, even Chewie and Luke were easy. Your letter on the other hand has been a pain in my ass to write, just like you’ve been for me most of your life. Now, I don’t want you to misunderstand this. I’m not just writing this letter so that you won’t feel left out, or because I feel like I have to, I’m writing this because I want to. You should know how bad I am with my words. You’ve always been a little more difficult than the other people in my life, but that doesn’t mean that the work wasn’t worthwhile._

 

_Maybe I wasn’t a model father. Truth is, I never really had an old man to show me how to be a good father, so we were working at a disadvantage from the start. I tried my best to do right by you, but I know I made a lot of mistakes. It would kill me to think there’s a chance that I’d pass and you would never know how much I loved you. I know it might be easy to think that with the way we left things when you were 18, but it’s just not the truth. When you left, your mom and I spent those eight years wondering how we could possibly move on without you. It wasn’t until you came home that we really felt whole again._

 

_I’ve seen you the past couple months, the way you’ve grown up, and it makes me sad that I wasn’t there for all the milestones you’ve passed these past eight years, but it’s also comforting. It makes me think that maybe I didn’t do such a terrible job after all, if you’ve still managed to become such a responsible, caring, loyal person. Or maybe it’s just a testament to how strong and persevering you are, that you got out into the world and made something of yourself even though the odds were stacked against you. Either way, I couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend my last months than getting to see you changing your life for the better, reconnecting with the family, maybe healing some of those old wounds._

 

_I’ve been thinking about your space books lately. There was one about energy, if I remember it right. Energy is endless. I always liked the thought of that more than going to some white gate up in the clouds. Everything is energy, and energy is endless. It means we all go on forever, right? Even the people we lose never really leave, we all just become part of the universe and continue on to the next adventure. That’s a comforting thought._

 

_Anyway, I’m worried that I’m rambling now, so I’ll wrap this up. Take care of your mother and Rey for me, they’re capable but tend to forget to take care of themselves when they’re wrapped up in their own heads. As far as your Uncle Luke is concerned, it’s not my place to tell the two of you to finally settle your differences, but I can at least hope that my death will bring about some kind of change between you for the better. Even if I won’t be around to see the things you’ll accomplish and create and learn, I know they’re bound to be interesting, and I’m proud of you already._

 

_-Love, Dad_

 

Kylo pretends that the sudden blur in his vision is just an effect from the exhaustion of a late night followed by an early morning. It’s definitely _not_ tears that are threatening to well up and streak down his face. He tilts his head back and takes a deep breath just in case they are.

 

He sets aside his own letter and continues rifling through the rest. There are a few more pages after the letters, all of which are much more official-looking, neatly typed up and signed. He realizes after glossing over a few sentences that this is Han’s will. No wonder he was adamant about mentioning to Kylo that the drawer needed a look through. Kylo carefully folds all the rest of the papers and returns them to the envelope for safe keeping until Leia can look through everything. He wanders into the kitchen with the envelope in one hand and his own letter clutched in the other and sets the former on the counter in plain sight before heading back upstairs to the solitude of the guest bedroom.

 

Kylo sleeps in his clothes on top of the sheets for an indeterminable amount of time. He wakes up disoriented and with a headache, and for the briefest moment he doesn’t remember where he is or what’s happening. Then reality sinks its icy claws back into him, piercing through him with renewed ferocity. He sits up and immediately wishes he was still unconscious.

 

The suffocating feeling from the master bedroom seemed to have engulfed the entire house. Kylo felt restless no matter what he did; washing his face and changing his clothes did nothing to change the smothering sensation. Han’s letter was resting on the bedside table now, but it carried a weight and presence as if the ghost of his father was haunting the room. He paced mindlessly for a few endless minutes before finally deciding to leave the house. Leia and the others still weren’t home, perhaps at an after-gathering with coffee and finger food while the mourners all chatted. He didn't particularly care, the sensation of being completely hollowed out was enough to convince him to grab the keys to the Camino and drive down the road to a bar. Han, he thought bitterly, would probably approve of drinking alone in a seedy hole in the wall in memory of him.

 

This place wasn’t like Maz’s at all. Where her bar was some degree of dingy, it was also fairly well-lit and well-furnished. This bar’s floors made Kylo’s shoes stick to them with every step, and the stools lining the counter itself were all different and in varying degrees of shabbiness. There was a jukebox pushed into the far corner opposite to the bathroom, cranking out old rock music with the fuzziness of a damaged speaker. There weren’t very many people here, but a few patrons were at the solitary pool table while a middle aged man wiped down the bar with a hand towel.

 

“What’ll it be?” he asks in a deep, rumbling voice upon Kylo dumping himself onto a stool.

 

Kylo grumbles out his order and fixes his gaze on the TV that’s mounted up on the wall to the left of the bar. It’s off right now, but when it’s on it probably only plays sports stations. The bartender occasionally tries to make small-talk, but Kylo ignores him and just drinks in silence. He refrains from getting entirely drunk, because he needs to eventually drive home, but that doesn’t stop him from staying at the bar for probably longer than is necessary to clear the effects of the alcohol in his system. Something about the general messiness of the place seems to comfort Kylo, the dark wood paneling on the walls and the strong scent of cigarette smoke that hangs in the air. He wanders over to the jukebox to see just how abysmal the song selection is, then leans against the wall nearby after choosing [the least offensive track available](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iey0VOhxV2Y). The edge from before has faded now, but his loneliness remains, a cold weight on his chest. The other patrons give him a wide berth, as Kylo looks unhinged on a good day, and this is definitely not a good day.

 

“Hey,” a man’s voice says after an unknown stretch of time, and Kylo opens his eyes to look at who had addressed him, not realizing he’d been dozing at his place against the wall. The man standing in front of him is around Han’s age, the lines of his face borne of a lifetime of harsh expressions and contemplating hard decisions. Must be a military man. He’s dressed head to toe in black.

 

“You’re Han’s boy, right?” the man asks, studying Kylo. “I’m a friend of his. Saw you at the service but didn’t get the chance to talk.” He looks expectantly at Kylo, as if he owes him some form of greeting or response. Definitely a military man. Kylo juts out a hand in silent offering, and the man doesn’t hesitate to clutch it with his own in a slightly-too-firm handshake.

 

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, gleaning from Kylo’s muteness that he isn’t going to respond well to idle chatting. He gestures back over to the bar.

 

Kylo considers the man’s offer. He really should take this as his cue to leave, informing the man politely that he should go see how his family is doing. It would be a clean escape from this social obligation. For some reason, though, Kylo doesn’t really mind the man’s presence, he’s stern but his eyes have an intelligent brightness to them, and the tone of his voice isn’t unkind. Kylo nods his head towards the bar and promises himself that he’ll leave after one more drink.

 

One drink quickly becomes three. Kylo finally lets go of the notion of driving himself home and drinks in earnest. Calling Hux and asking for a ride will just have to be another favor to repay later.

 

Talking comes easier with more alcohol burning its way through Kylo’s system. He guessed right about the man, he served with Han in the military and kept in contact for years afterward. He was from out of town, only here for the weekend to attend the funeral and to give condolences to Leia. He claimed to have seen Kylo a couple times as a small child, but Kylo doesn’t recall ever seeing him before. The conversation is dull, and eventually both men turn their attention to their drinks instead of focusing on coming up with more topics to discuss. At some point, they toast to Han’s memory. That’s when Kylo’s memory starts to grow hazy.

 

The rest of the evening is broken up by the dark fog of alcohol, just occasional snatches of lights and colors and faces. The emotions Kylo can remember better than the actual context of the situations or the words exchanged. He remembers hot flashes of anger, screaming until his throat became raw, bared teeth, split knuckles, splintering wood, a flood of red clouding his vision, the distinct metallic tinge of blood filling his nose and mouth, and then, finally, blackness and silence.


	21. Chapter 21

Kylo wakes up some time later in the emergency room. The blinding white lights are disorienting as they glare down at him, feeling like two shards of glass being jammed into his eye sockets. He groans and turns on his side, then feels cloth pressing against the right side of his face. Now that he thinks about it, he can feel his right eye opening, but he can’t see anything from it when he stares ahead in one of the white walls currently in front of him.

 

Surrounded by this much white, Kylo feels a little like he’s in heaven, floating in a sea of light and pain-killers. He doubts it, considering how shitty his life has been lately. The omniscient cosmic powers that be wouldn’t have allowed him to so easily slip into as nice a place as heaven, and they certainly wouldn’t let him die so painlessly and quietly.

 

His train of thought is derailed when Hux appears at his side, taking the empty chair with a paper cup of coffee in hand and looking as handsome and long-suffering as always. And incredibly tired, fueled on only by sheer force of will. Kylo is starting to think he’ll just be indebted to him for the rest of their lives, or for however much longer Hux puts up with him. He’s dressed in the most casual thing Kylo’s ever seen him in, barring pajamas: a plain black shirt wrapped in a canvas jacket and a pair of jeans, his hair neat but unstyled. He’s taken notice of Kylo’s consciousness and is now eyeing him with deep irritation.

 

“You’re just incapable letting me have a quiet night, aren’t you?”

 

“What happened?” Kylo asks, but it mostly comes out as a groan. Hux seems to decipher it anyway.

 

“You’re lucky you aren’t blind, I hope you know that. Dumb luck is the only reason I’m not picking out a glass eye for you.” He crosses his legs and leans back in his chair, which would suggest that he’s settling in to ream Kylo while he’s incapable of doing anything except listen.

 

“That older gentleman you met at the bar brought you in here a bloody mess. I spoke to him before he left, and he said you got blitzed and then proceeded to get in a screaming match with another equally drunk patron. After that it escalated to a full-on brawl, wherein you smashed a bar stool over him, and then he took a swipe at you with a broken beer bottle and sliced your face just shy of actually cutting your eye.

 

“By this point, you were too inebriated to continue absolutely pummeling the other man, so you just kind of stumbled back to the bar while he passed out on the floor. You were bleeding pretty badly by then, so your drinking companion was nice enough to drag you to the ER. He said you were mumbling my name, and gave him your phone, so he took it upon himself to call me before he left. You’re lucky you had someone looking out for you.”

 

Kylo’s hazy mind starts to slowly piece together the fight, and then the car ride to the hospital. Most of the memories are long gone by now, never to be retrieved, but at least Hux’s recounting fills in the blanks well enough. He decides that looking back up at the lights is easier than meeting the glare from Hux.

 

“Sorry I bothered you.”

 

“Don’t say stupid things.”

 

They sit in silence for several minutes that stretch on like hours in Kylo’s half-lucid state.

 

“How’s my face?”

 

“All I’ve heard is that it was a bloody mess when you got here, but they were able to clean it up well enough, and you miraculously have no damage to your eye itself, which was what I was most interested in learning. I can’t tell for sure how bad the scar will be with the bandages.”

 

“Right.” Kylo sighs and closes his eyes. At least he still has vision in both eyes. The likelihood of a facial scar is a small price to pay when he’d been in an all-out bar fight. And besides, with his family’s notoriously awful luck, Kylo was impressed he still had both his hands intact.

 

The silence returns, because even if Kylo knew what to say, he doesn’t know if he can talk much more without throwing up. The longer he’s conscious, the more his nausea builds. Eventually, after a small eternity, a doctor comes over. After she tells Hux about tending to the stitches, hands over a paper bag of antibiotics, and shares some other pieces of information of Kylo’s condition and recovery, she deems him fit to return home and signs off on the necessary paperwork.

 

It takes some maneuvering on Hux’s part to get Kylo on his feet and then to shoulder his weight as they stagger together out into the parking lot. Even more jarring than the harshness of the emergency room lights is the fact that the sun had risen. It was morning. Kylo squints blearily at the sky and then turns his head to look at Hux.

 

“Does my family know?” he asks.

 

“Your mom called me last night to ask if you were with me, and by then I was on my way to the hospital so I just said yes. This is your mess to deal with, so you’ll tell her yourself what you thought you were doing going to a bar to get pissed by yourself, and then going the hospital with a gash on your face. I need to drop you off at your house, inform your mother the extent of your stupidity, relay the doctor’s instructions, and then hopefully make it to the school by noon.”

 

Another pang of guilt jabs into Kylo’s chest. Today was Monday, a school day. Hux was missing half a day of work to tend to Kylo’s mess. What could he ever do for him that would measure up to how relentlessly Hux continued to support him? Not for the first time, Kylo wonders why Hux sees in him at all.

 

After a bit of back and forth, and Kylo almost retching in the back seat of the cab, Hux ascertains which bar Kylo had been to so that they could go and retrieve his car from the parking lot. He drives the Camino back to the house, parks in the driveway, and helps Kylo get to the front door without vomiting on the front lawn.

 

Leia’s eyes are almost comically large when she answers the door and gets a look at Kylo, who would probably look like hell even if he _didn’t_ have bandages covering half his face. Hux is not concerned at all with her reaction and pushes his way inside so that he can dump Kylo on the couch in the living room and tell Leia what she needs to know. Before he leaves, Hux walks back to the couch and runs his hand through Kylo’s sweat-slicked hair, pushing it away from his face. The tenderness of the gesture is lost with the biting edge to Hux’s voice when he speaks, just loud enough so that Kylo can hear him.

 

“Next time I get a call from you, it better be to go on and on about your endless gratitude to me, and not because of some new catastrophe. And it better be at least a week from now. I’ve officially camped out at your house while you grieved for your father, accompanied you to New York as moral support, helped to pack your apartment to move, attended your father’s funeral with you, and dropped everything in the middle of the night to tend to you while you stink like vomit and dried blood, and that’s all in the last week and a half. All I ask is for a break. Some peace and quiet before you inevitably fuck up again. Please just lay here and don’t cause any trouble until then, or if you do, call someone else.”

 

Hux leaves without waiting for a response, or even an indication that Kylo had heard him. He heard the warning in Hux’s voice, the tiredness, but also the promise in it. This wasn’t a breaking point in their relationship, just a point at which Hux refused to take on the role of a caretaker anymore. Kylo quietly hoped that Hux would be the one between the two of them to have the next big disaster, as unlikely as that was. It might be a nice change of pace to be the one cleaning up someone else’s mess for once.

 

Leia reappears after presumably going to the kitchen to put the medicine away. Her look of surprise is replaced by pure irritation, and she whacks the top of Kylo’s head as soon as she’s close enough to, Kylo wincing at the action.

 

“I’m not going to go off on you right now because I’m confident that Hux has already taken care of that, but I _am_ going to chew you out. You’re a real idiot, you know that? It seems like this family can’t go ten minutes without something going wrong. The last thing I needed to deal with right now was my son getting his face ruined in a bar fight, so thanks for that. I’m starting to think I should stop believing you when you say that you’ll be home. Seems like you’re always sneaking off and getting into things you shouldn’t.”

 

Leia pinches at the bridge of her nose, sighing tiredly. “Look, I know you’re hurting. We all are. If you’ve got things you need to work through,” she says like there really isn’t a question, “then any of us would be happy to talk to you. Okay? Hell, I’ll even spring for a therapist if you think that would help. But you can’t just keep pulling stunts like this, because at the rate you’re going you’re going to get yourself killed, and I refuse to lose anyone else right now. Do you understand? I _refuse_.”

 

Kylo looks up at her from his place sprawled on the couch as best he can with one eye, and grunts in a way that he hopes sounds affirming. He’s always been closer to Leia than to Han, and the last thing he wants is to cause her unnecessary stress and heartbreak, or more so than he obviously already has. Sometimes it’s alarming how connected they are, emotionally. Han used to tease them when they teared up at the same parts of the movies they watched, or made the exact same annoyed face at one of his ill-timed jokes. That kind of innate bond is not one that can ever really be broken, and all Kylo can think is what an absolute bitch it’ll be when it’s Leia he has to say goodbye to, if this is how horribly he’s handling Han’s death. He might _actually_ implode when Leia passes.

 

Leia sighs again, this time in temporary defeat. She drops her shoulders as she wills away all her annoyance for the time being, and seems to decide that she needs to go devote herself to a more productive activity. “Let me know if you need anything. I suggest you shower as soon as you feel up to it, you smell like the morning after a frat party.” And with that, she retreats to some other part of the house, leaving Kylo alone with his fractured, pain-killer-addled thoughts.

 

* * *

 

 

A week passes. Kylo does little more than go on runs around the neighborhood in the mornings and evenings, and tend to his stitches to make sure they haven’t popped or gotten infected. Once the bandages come off, Kylo can see that a long curved path has been carved up the right side of his face, and even when it’s fully healed it’ll probably always be a prominent part of his face from now on. It doesn’t matter much to Kylo, as someone who cares very little about his looks.

 

Hux doesn’t call, and Kylo doesn’t either. He isn’t sure what he wants to say yet, and he already knows that whatever he comes up with will be insufficient to express his gratitude. He hopes that this space will help ease some of the tension in their relationship, and that Hux is having a nice time sleeping soundly through the night without being woken up with a call informing him that Kylo has done some new reckless thing that requires his presence.

 

That Saturday, Leia rounds up the family to meet with a lawyer. As the executor of Han’s will, she needs to figure out who is inheriting what, and make sure that everything gets where it needs to go. Kylo lounges in the back of the room in one of the expensive leather chairs as the lawyer reviews each item on the will with Leia leaning over the other side of the desk to read along, a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose.

 

Han gave the El Camino to Kylo.

 

It probably shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it is. Kylo half-expected Han to have it cremated alongside him, not handed down to his son instead. The thought simply hadn’t occurred to him. Kylo inherits quite a bit of what Han owned as well, but the car is definitely the best of it. The jet black classic El Camino, which Han had kept in immaculate condition right up until the end of his life, was something that Kylo had coveted all his life. And now it belonged to him, the title put under his name, the keys permanently passed to him. For some reason, this news was grounding for Kylo, instead of how overwhelmingly bittersweet it should be. It somehow made him feel like he belonged here, in Santa Fe. This was his car, his city, his family, his home. He wasn’t going anywhere.

 

Rey helped him clean out the car when they got home. It was organized, for the most part, but there were some personal items that Han had left lying around, in addition to the numerous random objects he stored in the trunk. Together, they hauled everything out, and sorted what would be kept and what would get thrown out. Eventually, Kylo gets into the passenger seat and starts rifling through the objects inside the glove compartment. Several outdated maps fell out immediately, as well as some empty packs of cigarettes and unopened napkin packets.

 

After removing everything but the Camino’s paperwork and a GPS, Kylo was left with a stack of old CDs and cassettes, and several small scraps of paper. Upon closer inspection, the papers were random photographs, some of which were of Kylo in elementary and middle school, and others were of Han and Leia together. The music all had labels messily scrawled on them, and one of the discs was clearly titled “Ben’s Mix” in black marker. Kylo set this one aside and dealt with the rest of the pile.

 

That development alone gave Kylo enough nerve to return to New York that following week. He’d kept up contact with Phasma since their last face to face meeting, and she’d been making all the necessary arrangements for him in preparation for getting his apartment and studio sold and the rest of his belongings shipped to New Mexico.

 

It goes surprisingly smoothly, and that fact makes Kylo wistful. Phasma, in spite of all her obvious flaws, was an incredible agent, and had been with him since the very beginning. It had been her support and confidence in Kylo that had made any of this possible. He simply wouldn’t have a career if it hadn’t been for her. He wished, selfishly, that she would relocate just to continue her role as his agent. No one would ever handle him as well or as gracefully as she’d managed to all these years. Phasma managed to at least appear like she felt the same when they met up. She tactfully ignored the freshly healed scar.

 

It was common knowledge that, of her handful of clients, Kylo was far and away the most lucrative. Even if she wouldn’t miss his offensive personality, she would most definitely miss the revenue she got from his constant successes. She tells him to keep her information in case he ever returns to New York. She neatly avoids saying “I’ll still be here when your career crashes and burns in Santa Fe”, but Kylo can read between the lines. He thanks her nonetheless.

 

With a real-estate agent already working on selling Kylo’s property and Phasma acting as the middle man for the entire process, all that was left to Kylo was the physical labor of dismantling furniture and boxing up the rest of his possessions. It was a long several days, and a lot of physical exertion in hauling things around the city to either get them shipped off, donated to a thrift shop, or thrown into the large dumpster behind his apartment building. By the middle of the week, everything was as settled as Kylo could hope for, so he flew back to New Mexico. Leaving for a third time didn’t feel like a mistake like the previous two had, but Kylo had to admit that he’d always miss the city. He promised he’d go back to visit someday as turbulence rocked the plane, and then he fell asleep to the wails of someone’s baby.

 

* * *

 

 

When Kylo lands in Santa Fe and is officially moved back, he finally decides what he wants to do for Hux as a gesture of his gratitude. It might take a bit of time to finish, and the action itself is borderlining on illegal, but that’s really never stopped Kylo before. Once he puts his mind to something, there’s not much that can stop him. By the end of the week, after several trials and errors, Kylo sets off into the cover of night and puts the finishing touch on it. Hux will probably hate it, but he’s feeling a little too smug in what he’s accomplished to really care.

 

The next morning, he calls Hux for the first time in two weeks. Hopefully, enough time has passed between now and the previous Monday that he could see Kylo without being overwhelmed by his irritation.

 

“I was starting to thing you’d gone off and gotten yourself killed.”

 

“You told me not to call.”

 

“For a week. It’s been two.”

 

Kylo can feel the exasperation mounting, and huffs. “I know how to count.”

 

“So, obviously you _aren’t_ dead. Did you take my advice then?”

 

“Yes. I also went to New York and finished getting my affairs in order,” Kylo swallows, suddenly feeling the full weight of his decision, “I’m moved back.”

 

The other line is quiet for several moments. “I’m impressed. Do you want to come over?”

 

“I’m actually coming to get you. There’s something I want you to see.”

 

“Oh. Alright then. Call me when you’re outside.”

 

Kylo drives to Hux’s building and calls again to inform him of his arrival. They drive in silence to the destination Kylo has in mind, but it really shouldn’t be a surprise when they pull up to the curb at the park. Hux glances at him suspiciously.

 

“What’s here?”

 

“Just wait,” Kylo says, and gets out without any further explanation. He sets off down the gravel path without waiting to see if Hux will follow.

 

Now that they’re here, walking towards it, Kylo suddenly feels stupid. This is a stupid gesture of his appreciation. He could’ve easily bought an expensive gift instead, and Hux would probably have valued it just the same, if not more. No helping it now, though. Kylo had committed and he was going to see this through.

 

They arrive at their bench and Kylo looks expectantly at Hux, who stares back at him like he’s gone insane.

 

“The bench? What about it?”

 

Kylo thrusts his hands out at it impatiently, gesturing at the bronze plaque. Hux leans forward to inspect it more closely before realizing that it’s not the same one that’s been there for years, dedicating it to some man’s wife who fed the pigeons. It’s been replaced with a dedication to Hux instead.

 

“What did you do with the plaque for that old woman?” he asks immediately, sounding just a little horrified, eyes wide at the absurdity of what Kylo had done.

 

“I moved it,” he says with a shrug.

 

 It probably hadn’t meant a lot to that woman what bench she sat on, it was the park and the birds that she loved, the reason she came there often enough to have the plaque dedicated to her. This bench had meant something to Hux, though. It had been an escape from a home that didn’t want him, a place to meet with Kylo while they sat and talked, and where he laid even after Kylo went home, trying to clear his head before he went back to face Brendol again. It had become the place where he and Hux had first kissed, too. So, even though Kylo had no real right to, he’d given the bench to Hux. It would be his for as long as it took the caretakers to realize that the plaques had been moved around.

 

“This is ridiculous,” Hux says, reaching out to run a finger along the engraving. “If any authorities come to me about this, I will not hesitate to sell you out.”

 

“I know,” Kylo says. He’s willing to accept the responsibility. “Do you not like it?”

 

Hux stares at it a little too long, something twisting at his mouth before suddenly disappearing. The look is gone. “I do. It really is ridiculous, but I expect no less from you.”

 

This has gone better than Kylo expected. Hux seemed to genuinely appreciate the plaque, despite shaking his head and walking back towards the car after only a couple minutes.

 

“Come on, I want breakfast.”

 

Kylo smirks as he turns to follow Hux. The sun is out, bathing the trees overhead in perfect bright light that dapples the winding path underfoot. Everything feels okay for the first time in too long, like a long breath of air after being submerged in water. He’s here.

 

Surely there would be more struggle to come, starting with having to work at his relationship with his family, especially with Luke and Leia, but those necessary conversations would give way to more days like this in time. It was finally time to start moving on. He’s going to mourn and learn and grow and suffer and heal, and that’s an exciting thought.

 

When they climb back into the Camino, Kylo reaches into the stack of CDs he’s kept in the console between the seats, and puts [Han’s mix for him](https://open.spotify.com/user/yooxwc6gbxgo9hb263r9doszt/playlist/5mX1poWbGrtpns5NIOOgfz?si=zsxoRpOgRSix8BcBSxfi_Q) into the player. Then he pulls away from the curb, and drives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this story! 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments I've received while writing this fic! I read every comment you leave, and it means the world to me that my writing can reach so many people and make them feel what the characters are going through. I had a lot of fun cranking this one out. I might write more Kylux fics in the future but I'm probably going to stick to one-shots for the foreseeable future since they're a more manageable size and I'm not sure how my schedule's gonna look from now on. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you liked the ending, and I hope you like Han's playlist for Kylo. I wanted to make something that felt nostalgic and wistful, but also in a style befitting of Han. Hope I achieved that lol


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